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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

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Good Girl - George Weasley

Title: Good Girl Pairing: George x female!slytherin!Reader Summary: George has been the reader’s enemy since their first year at Hogwarts together and now, in their final year the universe keeps throwing them together in ways that make the reader question why she ever hated George in the first place. Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!george, begging, slight orgasm denial, thigh riding, oral (Male and female receiving), throat fucking, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex A/N: The summary is shit but it’s an enemies to lovers slow burn. Seriously this is 22k words I lost control. This is for @those-born-to-fight who wanted some enemies to lovers with a Slytherin reader! There’s two different ~spicy~ scenes and the tiniest touch of angst towards the end. Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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“God, do they ever just shut up?” Y/N grumbles, getting up to slam the door to her compartment closed. Adrian and Marcus laugh at her, but immediately stop when she glares at them, not wanting to face the consequences of annoying Y/N further.

There are very few things that Y/N outright hates. The list of things that mildly annoy her is quite long, but she reserves the word hate for only those special things that make her want to rip her hair out at the mere mention of them. Fred and George Weasley happen to be at the top of that list.

Like most students, Y/N had been enamored by the twins and their antics at first. Despite the fact that many of their practical jokes were aimed at members of her house and Snape, she found them quite funny. She had even thought about befriending the twins, the rivalry between their houses be damned. But after finding herself on the receiving end of a few too many Weasley practical jokes, she had begun to loathe them.

“I don’t know why you let them get under your skin,” Daphne comments, her tone dry and dull. Despite the fact that her eyes haven’t left the copy of Witch Weekly she’s flipping through, Y/N knows she’s been watching her fidget as the Weasley twins got rowdier and rowdier from their compartment down the hall.

“Because they’re, they’re,” Y/N pauses, trying to find the words to describe just how vile the Weasley Twins make her feel. “There isn’t even a word in the English dictionary that perfectly describes how insufferable they are.” She flips Adrian and Marcus off as they laugh at her frustration.

Daphne rolls her eyes and finally puts her magazine down. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Just drown them out like everyone else does. Take me, for example. I haven’t heard a thing either of them has said since third year.”

“That’s because they leave you alone, Daph,” Marcus drawls, coming to Y/N’s defense. This isn’t the first time the four of them have had this conversation and it surely will not be the last. “It’s kind of hard to ignore them when they send bludgers at you hard enough to knock your head off of your shoulders.”

“It’s pretty easy to knock someone’s head off of their shoulders when there isn’t anything in it, Marcus,” Daphne teases, pushing his shoulder lightly.

Adrian pretends to throw up at their behavior, causing Marcus to hit him over the head while Y/N laughs. Adrian ends up hitting Marcus back, and the boys hit at each other for a few moments while Daphne rolls her eyes and Y/N eggs them on.

“The contents of Marcus’s head aside,” Adrian says as he plops down next to Y/N, his breathing heavy from wresting Marcus to the ground. “He’s got a point, Daph. You’ve never actually been the victim of a Weasley prank. So, frankly your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Daphne flips Adrian off and picks her magazine up again. “I’m just saying. There are better things for Y/N to focus her attention on than those stupid Weasleys.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’d like to see you ignore them after they charm your shampoo to turn your hair neon yellow. It didn’t go back to normal for weeks!” Adrian laughs at the memory, and Y/N punches him in the thigh. “Watch yourself, Pucey or I’m gonna put yellow dye in your shampoo.”

“Trying to get in the shower with me, are you?” Adrian teases, throwing his arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

“In your dreams,” Y/N responds, picking up the book she had discarded after a particularly loud shout came from one of the Weasley twins.

She can feel Adrian chuckle as she leans into his side. “I’ll see you there.”

Y/N had almost forgotten about the Weasley twins entirely until she feels something hit her in the back of the head during dinner. She picks a piece of mashed potato out of her hair as she turns around, her eyes like daggers as she searches for the culprit. Of course, Fred and George are laughing to themselves, each of them waving at her as they make eye contact.

“Nice to see your hair back to normal, Y/N!” One of them, Fred she thinks, shouts at her.

“Yeah, I reckon if your hair had been yellow any longer you’d have to join Hufflepuff,” the other teases, causing the Gryffindors around them to laugh.

Y/N goes to stand up so she can knock the grins off of their faces, but Adrian puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her to sit back down. “It’s not worth it,” he hisses into her ear. “Not in front of all of the professors. Be smart about your revenge.”

Y/N glares at Adrian, but she relaxes, nonetheless. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. It’s only the first day back, she doesn’t need to go and get detention and lose Slytherin a bunch of points. Not yet at least.

“Hey Marcus, do me a favor and knock them off their brooms first chance you get.”

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Y/N comments to Daphne as they head up the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“What isn’t there to be cheery about? It’s the first day of the school year. Our last school year,” Daphne responds dreamily.

Y/N snorts in laughter, rolling her eyes at her best friend. “Ah yes. The hardest year of school yet, that certainly is something to be happy about.”

“Oh NEWTS? Who cares about those,” Daphne says casually as they enter the Great Hall and head towards the Slytherin table. “You don’t need good grades in school to be a good wife and mother.”

Y/N scoffs, choosing not to say anything. Unlike Daphne and most of the other girls in her house, she plans on actually having a career of her own. It is common for pureblood families to marry off their daughters to the sons of other pureblood families and often times the mark of a good pureblood girl wasn’t her brain, but her ability to stay silent, look pretty and boss around a house elf.

Thankfully, Y/N’s parents hadn’t raised her with the same values. They didn’t believe in the same archaic things most pureblood families did, and they had raised Y/N to have loftier ambitions than to be someone’s wife and a mother. Y/N’s father always joked that she had inherited her mother’s smart mouth, so it would be impossible for them to marry her off anyway.

“Just because you don’t care about your grades doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. Right, guys?” Y/N asks as they sit down, looking for both Marcus and Adrian to back her up.

“Are you guys on this again?” Adrian asks, rolling his eyes. Much like Y/N’s hatred of the Weasley twins, Daphne failing to take school seriously was a frequent topic of conversation in their friend group.

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Pucey,” Y/N teases as she grabs some toast. “Daph is free to sit back and spend her last year of school doing nothing, but I on the other hand plan on actually doing good on my NEWTS. So, feel free to slack off with her, or study with me, I don’t really care.”

Marcus chuckles at Y/N’s attitude. “Damn, Y/N tell us how you really feel.”

Y/N chucks a piece of toast at Marcus’s head before she reaches for her bag. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got all of your schedules.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small stack of papers, handing their designated paper to each friend.

“Wow, slacking on your Head Girl duties already and it’s only the first day of term,” Adrian teases with an easy smile.

Y/N flicks his ear. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t make Head Boy.”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he scans over the piece of paper. “Me? An administrative stick in the mud? I don’t think so.”

“Nah mate, you just were looking forward to spending hours alone with Y/N,” Marcus teases, causing both Y/N and Adrian to throw pieces of muffin at him.

“Moving on,” Daphne drawls, clearly tired of their antics. “What’s everyone got first lesson? I’ve got divination.”

When both Marcus and Adrian announce they have Arithmancy, Y/N frowns. “Guess I’ll be heading to Potions alone then.”

As Y/N heads down to Potions after breakfast she can feel her mood sinking. Potions is one of her favorite classes, and not just because Snape tends to favor Slytherins. She finds the art of Potions fascinating, and each lesson always tests the bounds of her knowledge. But class is always more enjoyable with her friends around.

Her mood only worsens as the Weasley Twins fall into step beside her, one on each side.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, Georgie?” the twin on the left, who is obviously Fred, says playfully.

“Looks like little Y/N is heading to potions, Freddie,” George responds, lightly knocking into her shoulder.

Y/N stumbles on the step despite the light touch. Both Fred and George have a good six inches on her, and their time as beaters on the Gryffindor team has obviously left them both toned and muscular.

“And without her little gang of friends, what a shock,” Fred adds with a laugh as Y/N finds her balance.

“Friends? What friends?,” George teases.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Y/N glares at each of them. “You two dimwits are in NEWT level potions? Snape must have lowered his standards.”

“Oh Y/N how you wound us,” George gasps, clutching his chest.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they enter the Potions classroom, determined not to let the twins bother her. Daphne did have a point on the train yesterday, there were other things she needed to focus on besides the twins and their stupid games.

She takes her usual seat at the front of the classroom, expecting the twins to slink to the back of the class, far away from Snape’s prying eyes. Her fist automatically clenches when they slide into the seats directly behind her, her nostrils flaring.

This year certainly is going to be the hardest yet, and not just because of the rigorous coursework, Y/N thinks to herself as Snape begins class.

“You look, how do I put this nicely.” Marcus pauses. “Flustered.”

Y/N glares at him as she flops down next to Daphne. Potions had been an absolute disaster. She could hardly focus on her Memory Potion, too busy picking out the Jobberknoll Feathers the Weasley Twins kept putting in her hair. She had managed to make something barely acceptable, and Snape’s disappointment was evident.

“Screw off, Marcus. I just spent an hour dealing with Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 standing behind me doing everything in their power to piss me off. So, unless you wanna end up with your head in one of those pots and dragon dung fertilizer up to your ears, shut your mouth.”

Daphne laughs at Y/N’s outburst. “I told you just to ignore them, Y/N. Although dragon dung fertilizer up to the ears does sound like the perfect revenge plan. Not that I’m condoning letting someone, or someones, get under your skin so badly that you need revenge,” she pauses, winking at Y/N. “But if I were I think that would be the way to go.”

Before Y/N can get too lost in the thought of burying Fred and George in Dragon Dung Professor Sprout is entering the Greenhouse and starting class. But she definitely pushes the idea to the back of her mind for future consideration.

“I’m going to fling myself off the top of the astronomy tower,” Y/N announces as she collapses next to Daphne in the common room. After her short break from the Weasley Twins in Herbology, Y/N had to suffer through a double transfiguration and a charms lesson with them both sitting too close for comfort.

“Could you at least wait until it’s closer to the end of term? We could probably get an extra week off at the Christmas holiday,” Adrian says, not even bothering to look up from the Quidditch playbook in his lap.

Y/N groans, putting her head in her hands. “I need better friends, none of you are sympathetic of my suffering.”

“If you need sympathy go hang out with some Hufflepuffs,” Daphne tells her, throwing her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “What did the twins do this time?”

Instead of answering Y/N reaches for her bag and pulls out her charms book, handing it over to Daphne. “Go ahead. Try and open it.”

Daphne gives her a look as she cautiously takes it from her hands. She shares a look with Marcus and Adrian, who were finally intrigued enough to pay attention, before she slowly opens it. As soon as it falls open there’s a whizzing noise followed by loud pops as a mini firework show starts to go off. Daphne squeals and quickly shuts the book, her eyes wide.

“What in the hell was that?” she asks, tossing it back to Y/N.

“Whatever it was it was kinda cool. Open it again,” Marcus says with a laugh.

Y/N glares at him and shoves the book back in her bag. “Fred and George did something to it, obviously. It scared the shit out of me when I opened it in class. Flitwick took 30 points! 20 for the interruption it caused and 10 for the curse word I yelled.”

Adrian and Marcus erupt in a fit of hysterics as they imagine the scene it must have caused, and Y/N gets up so she can beat both of them with a pillow. They both pick up their own pillows to retaliate, and the three of them spend the next several minutes hitting each other. It only ends when a spare pillow ends up flying over and smacking Pansy Parkinson in the back of the head, causing all four of them to collapse in fits of laughter.

Y/N is the first to calm down, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. “Oh, that was absolutely incredible. Just what I needed.” As the rest of her friends pull themselves together Y/N grabs her bag. “Come on, let’s go to dinner. I wanna catch Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 so I can make them fix my stupid book.”

When the four of them arrive at the Great Hall Daphne, Marcus and Adrian head towards the Slytherin table, while Y/N makes a beeline towards the Gryffindor table. “Oi! Weasley!” When three red heads whip around to look at Y/N she sighs. Only one of the twins is sitting at the table, and it’s a 50/50 chance she gets it right, so she decides to just take a guess at which one it is. “George!”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” George asks as Y/N reaches the table.

She smiles to herself, proud that she had gotten it right. Y/N had never taken the time to learn the differences between the two, but now that she’s examining George she can tell that his eyes are softer, like there’s some reservation behind them. She takes out her charms textbook and places it on the table in front of him.

“Fix it,” she demands.

“Fix what?” he asks coyly, a mischievous smile on his face.

Y/N clenches her fist and takes a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “Don’t play stupid, Weasley. Just fix my book.”

George laughs. “Who said I’m playing stupid? You’re the one that called me a dimwit earlier, and you’re right. I am a dimwit.”

Their exchange has caught the attention of the Gryffindors sitting around them, and they’re all watching Y/N intently, smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

“Look, your stupid little prank has already served its purpose. It scared me and I lost Slytherin some points. Just fix the damn thing, will you?” Y/N is starting to get desperate, but she doesn’t let it show. She keeps her expression blank, not wanting George to know how truly bothered she is.

“I don’t know. Maybe I would be more inclined to fix it if you asked me nicely, Y/N,” his tone is teasing, so much so it almost sounds condescending. The students sitting around them laugh lightly, waiting to see what Y/N does next.

Y/N grits her teeth, weighing her options in her head. She could stand here and nicely ask George to fix her book, or she could walk away and send an owl home to have her parents send her a new one. And even though she is tempted to just take the easy way out, she’ll be damned if she lets a Weasley twin get one over on her.

She takes a deep breath and plasters a sickeningly sweet, fake smile on her face. “George, would you please fix my Charms book?”

A look of surprise quickly crosses George’s face, before he replaces it with an easy smile. “Of course, Y/N. Thank you so much for being a good girl and asking nicely.” The Gryffindor table is basically in full on hysterics by now, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up. As soon as George has pressed his wand to her book and muttered the countercharm she snatches it off the table.

“Thanks so much, George,” she forces out, before she turns to head over to the Slytherin table. “Fucking prick.”

She sits down between Adrian and Draco Malfoy with a huff, already trying to figure out what her revenge will be. The conversation she’d had with Marcus and Daphne in Herbology pops back into her head and a wicked smile forms on her face.

“Why couldn’t you get Daphne to do this? It’s freezing out here,” Adrian whispers as he shivers.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they tiptoe through the greenhouse. “And you lot call me dramatic.” They both freeze in place when they hear a creek, but when no other noise comes they continue on. “Daphne Greengrass, awake past 10 pm? Ms. Beauty sleep is a nightmare if she doesn’t get a full 8 hours, you know that.”

When they reach the container Professor Sprout keeps the Dragon Dung fertilizer in she turns to Adrian, giving him a mischievous grin. “Besides, you know you’d regret it if you didn’t come with me. Now quick, hand me the bags.”

After they get the required materials from the Greenhouse, she and Adrian quietly sneak back in the castle and head up towards the Owlery. It takes them longer than anticipated, since they have to keep ducking behind statues and into classrooms to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris, but eventually they make it. They both sigh in relief when they return to the common room 30 minutes later, the final part of Y/N’s plan in place for the morning.

“You kind of amaze me, you know that?” Adrian says with a laugh as they both head towards the staircases that lead to their dorms.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re only nice to me so you don’t end up on the end of one of my revenge plans.”

The next morning Y/N is up bright and early, her body practically vibrating with excitement. Despite the fact that the Weasley Twins have been pulling pranks on her since first year, this is the first time she’s decided to retaliate.

She could deal with most of their antics. Locking her in the toilets, charming her shampoo, hitting her with snowballs and every other little trick or joke they pulled, Y/N could just grin and bear it. But having to stand in the middle of the Great Hall and practically beg George to fix her book was her tipping point. She can practically still hear him calling her a good girl and it causes a shiver to run down her spine. After today Fred and George will certain think twice about messing with her.

“Hurry up!” she urges her friends as she races to the top of the stairs. The owl post will be arriving in a few minutes, and there is no way she’s missing the big show. Adrian picks up his pace to meet her, but Daphne and Marcus continue up the stairs slowly, caught up in conversation. “You lot are hopeless.”

Y/N practically skips into the Great Hall and after sitting down where she knows she’ll have the perfect view of what’s about to happen she rubs her hands together. Daphne and Marcus give her a confused look as they sit down across from her and Adrian, who thankfully shares her excitement.

“What has gotten into you, Y/N, you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin,” Daphne comments, sounding slightly concerned that her friend may have gone mad.

As the first few owls start to fly in, Y/N grins and gestures towards the Gryffindor table. “Shush, shush. Just look over there and you’ll find out.”

Y/N holds her breath as two familiar owls fly in, each of them holding a package. They soar towards the Gryffindor table, and instead of gracefully dropping their parcels in front of their recipients they drop them a few moments early. The brown paper bags explode as they hit Fred and George at the same time, Dragon Dung Fertilizer pouring down their heads and onto their shoulders and laps.

The entire Great Hall is silent for a moment, before nearly every student bursts into laughter. The most noise comes from the Slytherin table, and Y/N’s chest swells with pride. Adrian pats her on the back as Daphne and Marcus turn back to congratulate her on a prank well done.

Y/N can’t stop looking at the Twins, and her breath catches in her throat when they return her gaze. She sends them both a wink and a wave, giggles still falling from her lips.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” George asks Y/N as he and his brother slide into the seats behind her and Daphne in Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. She hasn’t seen either of them since they left the Great Hall to get cleaned up, but at lunch Astoria informed her that Ginny Weasley had told her that both boys were quite annoyed.

Y/N laughs but doesn’t turn around to look at either of them. “Nice to see you boys managed to clean up.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” Fred says, leaning forward in his seat to ensure Y/N hears him.

She rolls her eyes, but still doesn’t look back at them. “What? You can’t take what you dish out? I thought you two were tougher than that.” Daphne nudges Y/N, gesturing to the front of the classroom where Professor Umbridge is now standing, clearly telling her to knock it off with the twins.

“Oh, it’s on. You have no idea what you’ve started,” George whispers at her. She imagines that he’s trying to sound threatening, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

As Professor Umbridge starts rambling on about her expectations, Y/N turns to face the twins. “Bring it on, bitch.”

“No magic? No practical lessons? She was joking, right?” Y/N rambles as they head towards the Great Hall for dinner. They’ve all just come from a dreadful Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Umbridge had made it very clear that they’d be spending the year doing nothing but reading from their textbooks.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Frankly I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s not wrong, our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been all over the place. I think it’s a good thing that we’re finally going to have some structure and unity.”

Y/N groans, looking to Adrian and Marcus for support. She frowns when they both refuse to meet her gaze. “That’s because you don’t care about doing good on your NEWTS. You don’t need an O on your exams to marry Marcus or whoever your parents have picked out for you to be with after graduation,” she spits.

Before Daphne has the chance to pick her jaw up off of the ground and respond, Y/N is turning around and heading away from her friends, needing to be alone.

“Are you alright?”

Y/N picks her head up from where she had buried it in her arms, surprised to see Ginny Weasley standing in front of her. She nods as she uncurls her body, stretching it out slightly. She had taken refuge on a random bench in one of the corridors and after sitting on the stone for a few hours her body has begun to ache. She moves down the bench a little and gestures for Ginny to take a seat.

While the Weasley Twins are Y/N’s least favorite people in the world, she actually doesn’t mind their siblings. She had gotten to know Percy quite well, since they had been Prefects together for a year before he had become Head Boy, and he had helped her out on quite a few transfiguration assignments during her OWL year. All she knows about Ron are the things Draco has said, but she doubts that anything that comes from his mouth is true. She’s never had a conversation with Ginny, but Daphne’s younger sister Astoria is quite friendly with her, so if she’s willing to befriend a Slytherin she’s alright in Y/N’s book.

“You seemed pretty angry earlier, before dinner. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N fidgets with her school robes as her cheeks flush, she had been hoping that no one had witnessed her outburst. She had heard too often that Slytherins were mean and evil, so she always did her best to contain her emotions around others, not wanting to perpetuate the stereotype even further.

“You saw that then?” When Ginny nods she sighs. “It’s just been a frustrating few days and I love my friends, but they don’t always get it. That stupid Umbridge is really going to screw me over this year and I can’t fail now. Not when I’ve spent the last seven years working my ass off.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N that sounds awful. There’s going to be this, thing. A meeting or whatever. Next weekend during the first Hogsmeade trip,” Ginny pauses so she can tuck a piece of parchment into her hand. “Stop by, it might be, uh helpful to you.” With a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder Ginny leaves Y/N alone.

With a heavy sigh Y/N starts to head to the common room. She uncurls the piece of paper Ginny had handed her, fearful that this might be some elaborate set up for one of her brother’s tricks.

Hogshead Inn, 12 pm, is all the paper reads in neat handwriting that Y/N doesn’t recognize. She shoves the piece of parchment into her pocket as she reaches the dungeons, trying to decide whether or not to go.

The rest of the week and the next pass by slowly much to Y/N’s dismay. Things between her, Marcus and Adrian returned to somewhat normal, but Daphne is still refusing to speak to her. No matter how many times Y/N apologized Daphne just kept ignoring her. The fact that the Weasley Twins were lurking behind every corner just pushed Y/N closer to the edge, so by the time Saturday arrived Y/N didn’t care if the note Ginny had slipped her the previous week was the bait for an elaborate prank. She just needed some sort of human interaction.

Due to her and Daphne’s still strained relationship and the first Slytherin Quidditch practice of the school year, Y/N is all alone as she heads to Hogsmeade. Normally she’d not even bother going if her friends didn’t accompany her, but her lack of company makes it easier for her to slip down the forgotten path that leads to the Hogshead Inn.

She looks the dim building up and down as she approaches, grimacing at its appearance. Adrian and Marcus had tried to convince her and Daphne to enter the pub with them during one of their first trips to the little village on the outskirts of Hogwarts, but the girls had overpowered them, and dragged them into Honeydukes instead.

She pauses briefly at the entrance, trying to prepare for the things that could be waiting for her on the other side. She enters through the door slowly, her eyes widening in surprise at the scene she’s met with. It certainly is not what she had expected. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, with more than a dozen chairs facing them. Some are empty, while others are taken up by students that Y/N vaguely recognizes. Ginny gives her a wave when they make eye contact, motioning for her to take a seat.

Y/N sits down in a seat towards the back and fidgets with the sleeves of her jumper. She’s relaxed slightly since she entered, this clearly wasn’t some elaborate prank set up by Fred and George, but she’s still unsure of what she just walked in to.

“What are you doing here?” Comes a voice from behind her, causing Y/N’s shoulders to tense up. She turns around only to be met with Fred and George.

“Come to spy on us, Head Girl? Want to get all of our secrets and then run off to the greaseball you call Head of House to tattle on us?” Fred sneers as he and George push past her to take the seats in front of her.

Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Clearly I’m here for the same reasons you are, moron. If I was spying on you why would I just be sitting here out in the open?”

Truly, Y/N has no idea what she’s doing there, Ginny had been extremely vague. All she knows is that this meeting will somehow make dealing with Umbridge better, and after the awful start to term she’s had Y/N is willing to do anything at this point.

Before either Fred or George can respond, Hermione is urging everyone to take a seat so they can begin.

45 minutes later Y/N is standing behind Fred and George, waiting her turn to sign the paper that will make her an official member of Dumbledore’s Army. Y/N was skeptical at first about getting involved in whatever Harry and Hermione had cooked up. But as Harry talked more, about needing real, practical knowledge Y/N couldn’t help but agree. She had always been so focused on school and her future career that she never even considered what lay waiting for them outside of Hogwarts’ protective walls.

Y/N hadn’t known Cedric well. A conversation or two during Prefect duties, idle pleasantries in the hall, but that was it. But she had spent much of her summer vacation thinking about him, and about what Dumbledore had said about his death. While her friends and many of her housemates thought Dumbledore was an old crack pot, Y/N trusted and believed him. Her parents did as well, and they had talked about the first wizarding war with her over dinner on several different occasions.

As she listened to Harry talk about what he had seen and what he has already dealt with, Y/N knew that she needed to be a part of whatever he was planning. Being able to get some practice with actual defensive magic would surely help her when it came to end of the year exams, but if they truly were getting ready for another war, it may just help save her life.

As she heads back towards school, she can’t help but think about a conversation she’d had with her father not too long before the school year started again. He had reminded her that she had been placed in Slytherin house because of her ambitions in life, and her willingness to do whatever it takes to get there. Before he had kissed her goodnight he told her that it wasn’t always what you know, but who you know and that the people she surrounded herself with was just as important as focusing on her studies.

At first she had scoffed at his thinly veiled digs at her friends. Y/N has been friends with Marcus, Daphne and Adrian since first year, and she had never felt the need to expand her circle. Her parents were quite familiar with the families her friends came from, and the values they held. She knew that her parents didn’t exactly like her friends but were still supportive of Y/N and the relationship she formed with them.

But now, after seeing how badly the Daily Prophet was slandering both Dumbledore and Harry and hearing directly from Harry what he’d been through, Y/N understands what her father was saying. The Greengrass’ and Flint’s had been suspected Death Eaters all those years ago and its likely members of Adrian’s family had ties to Voldemort as well. Her father had been encouraging her to seek out new friendships to try and protect her from the Dark Arts that seemed very attractive to members of Slytherin house.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t hear the Weasley Twins coming up behind her until they’re knocking into her shoulders as they pass by. She flips them off behind their backs, trying to ignore their chuckling.

“I can’t believe I just signed up to spend even more time with those twats,” she mumbles to herself as the castle comes into view. While she doesn’t mind having Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny on her side, she plans on staying as far away from the Weasley Twins as possible.

That night at dinner Y/N is listening to Adrian and Marcus bicker over what drills to run during their next practice when her mouth starts to tingle. Her eyes widen when she takes another sip of pumpkin juice and the sensation only gets worse. Adrian and Marcus give her a concerned look as she begins to fidget and from the corner of her eye Y/N can see that Daphne is watching as well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian asks as Y/N slaps her hands over her mouth.

Except she can’t respond. Her tongue has started to swell in her mouth so much so that it’s trying to force its way past her lips. It feels like it weighs a ton and as the pain increases she has no choice but to let it slowly seep out of her mouth.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she hears George shout from the Gryffindor table, causing groups of students to look over at her. She’s desperately trying to contain her growing tongue as she gets up to head to the Hospital Wing.

“Cat got your tongue?” she can hear Fred call behind her, nearly drowned out by the peeling laughter coming from the Great Hall.

When she gets back to the common room that night, Y/N is expecting it to be empty. But when she’s barely closed the door behind her a mess of black curls takes over her vision and arms wrap around her tightly.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright. I thought you would have been back ages ago. What happened?” Daphne asks as she lets go. She leads Y/N over to a set of couches in the corner, where Adrian and Marcus are waiting for them.

Adrian pulls her down next to him and Daphne sits so close to Y/N on the other side that she’s practically in her lap. “Would you all stop fussing? I’m fine, honest,” she says with a reassuring laugh. While Y/N is fine, she can’t help but lean into Adrian’s side, feeling relieved that things are back to normal between the four of them.

“Let me guess, Weasley Twin revenge?” Marcus asks.

Y/N nods, smiling when Daphne curses them under her breath. “A creation they like to call Ton-Tongue Toffees. They must have managed to get it into my goblet or something, so it melted into my pumpkin juice. It took ages to get the swelling to go down but Madam Pomfrey managed it. I’ve just spent the last 45 minutes listening to Snape try and get the maximum punishment for them.”

Y/N knows that not many people like Snape, that it’s really only Slytherins that appreciate him. It’s no secret that he favors his house almost unfairly so, but she doesn’t really mind it when he’s advocating for them. The twins had technically poisoned her, which is something Snape had pointed out when McGonagall suggested only taking points away from the boys for a “harmless” prank. Snape had managed to negotiate on Y/N’s behalf, and the boys will now be serving a week’s detention with Snape.

“So, what are you gonna do to get back at them?” Daphne asks, causing all three of them to give her a look. “What?”

“What happened to all that crap about just ignoring them?” Marcus teases.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “To hell with all that. They want a prank war? Well then let’s show them what being a Slytherin is all about.”

By the time Monday morning rolls around Y/N is in such a good mood that she practically skips down the stairs to Potions. The fake Galleon Ginny had slipped her during lunch yesterday had burned red this morning, letting Y/N know that the DA’s first official meeting would be taking place this Thursday. So not only was she going to get some real defensive magic training, but after the Twin’s prank on Saturday evening her and Daphne were able to properly make up and she had her friends back.

She bites her lip as the twins fall in step beside her once again, determined not to let their presence ruin her mood.

“How’s your tongue feeling this morning?” Fred asks from her right side.

“Any bloating? Tingling? Lasting side effects?” George teases from her left side.

Y/N shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s okay boys, go ahead and make your jokes. I want you to remember how good you feel now, because once I’ve gotten you back you’ll wish you’d never messed with me.”

She can hear them both laugh as they enter the Potions class and take their respective seats. “Really? Already planning your next late-night trip into the greenhouses?” George muses.

Y/N turns in her seat so she can look each of them in the eyes. “Oh, you poor, sweet, boys,” she mocks. “When I’m done with you the dragon dung fertilizer you took to the head will seem like a shower of rose petals.” She gives them a sly wink, and turns back around, their shocked expressions still dancing around in her brain.

“So, you figured out what you’re going to do them, then?” Daphne asks excitedly after Y/N has finished recounting her conversation with Fred and George to her and Marcus in Herbology. Professor Sprout has tasked them with dissecting Shrivelfigs, so the three of them can talk freely. Even though her and her friends had spent most of Sunday trying to concoct the perfect revenge plan they had come up with nothing that was quite right.

“I guess you could say that.” When Marcus and Daphne give her questioning looks she giggles. “I’m not going to actually do anything to them.” When they both still look confused she rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to let them think that something big is coming. That way they’re always on edge when I’m around, always looking over their shoulders, waiting for some huge prank to befall them. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out when and where it’s gonna happen.”

Marcus gives Y/N a look of appreciation. “Damn, that’s pretty brilliant, Y/N.”

Y/N bows at his praise, causing Daphne to chuckle. “What they got this morning is just a taste of what I have planned for tonight.”

Y/N sneaks out of the common room that night, not too long after dinner. She knows that Fred and George will be serving detention with Snape and that it’s the perfect opportunity to mess with them.

When she reaches the Potions classroom she pauses just outside the door to ensure that Snape isn’t actually still in the room with the boys. When all she can hear is the clatter of cauldrons and Fred and George’s soft voices, she decides to go for it.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Y/N asks innocently as she enters the classroom. “Oh, boys! What a treat, seeing you down in our ends this late at night.” Y/N walks further into the classroom and she can’t help but smile as the twins start to fidget.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Fred asks, eyeing her warily.

She puts the most innocent look on her face as she can, blinking up at the two of them. “I’m looking for Professor Snape. Is he around?”

“No, he left us alone quite a bit ago,” George responds. Y/N can tell he’s trying to hide how nervous he sounds. Fred seems like the one to never back down, so Y/N switches her tactic slightly. She starts to walk closer to George and she has to bite her lip to keep the smile off her face as he tries to subtly move away from her.

“That’s a shame. I have a question I need to ask him.” Y/N leans against the table, moving that much closer to George. “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

“He didn’t,” Fred answers, making direct eye contact with Y/N. She returns his gaze, not backing down until he looks away from her.

Feeling accomplished Y/N smacks the table with her palm and stands back up. “Well I guess I’ll leave you boys to it.” She heads towards the door. “Have fun.” With one final wink she’s out the door, laughing to herself as she goes.

Before Y/N knows it, Thursday has already arrived. She tries her best to contain her excitement, but as the first DA meeting approaches it’s getting harder and harder. She feels bad for not telling her friends about what she’s involved in, but she knows it’s for the better. They certainly wouldn’t approve of the unofficial club, and she doesn’t want to chance that they’ll blow the whole operation in to Umbridge.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N says with a wave as she heads to leave the common room. She told the others she had some Head Girl duties to take care of so they wouldn’t try and come with her when she left.

As she heads towards the room of requirement Y/N takes the time to glance over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure no one is following her. She had been the only Slytherin in attendance at the Hogshead Inn, and she doesn’t need to be trusted even less by bringing unwanted guests with her.

When she finally enters the room of requirement it’s a bit crowded, but she can tell that not everyone has arrived yet. Ginny waves at Y/N, motioning for her to come and join her and Hermione. She’s silently thankful for her invitation so she doesn’t have to stand there by herself and goes to join the two girls.

“Hey, Ginny. Granger,” she greets them both with an awkward wave. She doesn’t know much about Hermione, again, having only heard about her from Draco. She’s had to interact with her a few times due to Hermione being a prefect, but for some odd reason she trusts Ginny, so she figures that Hermione is alright to hang out with.

“Y/N I’m really glad you decided to join. Not only is it probably helpful to have the Head Girl on our side, it’s also really nice to have some house diversity,” Hermione says with a genuine smile.

Y/N can feel her cheeks start to heat up, so she clears her throat, giving her a moment to regain her composure. “Thanks, Hermione. I never really understood it, all of the house rivalry mumbo jumbo. I’m just supposed to automatically hate you because some hat put you in one house over another? Seems silly to me.”

She hears someone scoff behind her, and she turns to see George standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. “What? Got a problem, Weasley?”

“That’s real big talk considering the fact that you’ve had some grudge against me and Fred since first year, Y/N,” he says, looking at her curiously.

“I don’t hate you and Fred because you’re Gryffindors,” she explains with an eye roll. “I hate you because you’re ungodly annoying.” She bites her lip, allowing herself to look him up and down. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N can’t deny that his arms look downright filthy. She had never truly looked at George, he was quieter than Fred, so he didn’t quite capture her attention like his brother had. But now that he’s standing over her, she can’t deny that he’s attractive. He is most certainly her mortal enemy, but he’s an attractive enemy at least.

“If anything, you and Fred are the ones who started our rivalry,” she continues a moment later when her eyes meet his again. “You locked me in the girl’s bathroom with Moaning Myrtle for three hours on the second day of school, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” George says with a laugh. “Forgot about that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Harry as he starts the meeting. He decides to start with something basic but effective, disarming. Y/N could disarm any witch or wizard in her sleep, but not everyone there is at the same skill level, so she’s willing to get some practice in.

They start to break up into pairs and Y/N looks around, trying to find someone, anyone to work with. Of course, George is with Fred, Ginny is already working with a Ravenclaw Y/N thinks is named Luna, and Hermione is with Ron. She ends up locking eyes with Neville Longbottom and she motions for him to come join her.

“I’ll work with you Neville.”

He gives her an appreciative smile, and as he crosses the room George nudges him. “Watch out for her Neville. You never know what she might be up to, this could all be a big ploy to take out the entire Gryffindor house.”

Y/N flips him off, giving Neville a warm smile. “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” They both take their stance, wands at the ready. She has heard Draco and his cronies make fun of Neville for hours on end, so she’s not really expecting much to happen.

When Neville waves his wand and shouts Expelliarmus, his own wand flies out of his hand and clatters to the floor at Y/N’s feet. His cheeks turn a bright red, and Y/N can practically feel how embarrassed he is. He looks at her expectantly, like he’s waiting for her to laugh and say something rude.

She sends him a smile and grabs his wand. “That was a really good try, Neville. The first time I tried to disarm someone I nearly blinded Professor Quirrell when my wand shot out of my hand and flew across the room,” she reassures him with a laugh. When Neville laughs too she hands him his wand back. “Here, try moving your wand like this.” She shows him the proper wand movement before she takes her place again. “Ready?”

Two hours later when Y/N is heading back towards the Slytherin common room, she feels accomplished. Neville had managed to get her wand to wiggle in her grip by the end of it, and she could tell he was proud of himself.

Y/N is thinking about all the homework she has to do tonight when someone falls into step beside her. “Alright, give it up, what’s your deal?”

She looks up at George before she examines the rest of the hallway. “Where’s your brother? I thought you two did everything together.”

“He’s down in the kitchens getting food, not that it’s any of your business,” he adds quickly. “And stop dodging the question. What’s your deal?”

She rolls her eyes and stops walking. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” George turns to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. She mirrors his stance, looking up at him.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes again. “So, what because I’m a Slytherin I can’t participate in clandestine clubs? Your sister is the one who invited me to that meeting, so go and ask her why she did it. All I did was show up. I liked what Harry said and since Umbridge isn’t doing anything to help us with NEWTS I signed up. That’s it.”

George doesn’t respond immediately, instead he studies Y/N’s face, trying to see if she’s lying. He goes to say something when someone interrupts them.

“Mr. Weasley! Ms. Y/L/N!” They both jump as Professor McGonagall comes down the hall towards them. “What are you two doing out past curfew?” Y/N and George look to each other with a worried glance, not entirely sure what to say. “Never mind the reason, you shouldn’t be out of your common rooms at this hour. I’ll have 15 points from each of your houses and I’ll see you both in detention tomorrow evening!”

Y/N gives George one last glare before she stalks all the way back to her common room.

“What exactly were you doing standing in a hallway with George Weasley past curfew anyway?” Daphne asks Y/N the next day at lunch.

Daphne had just finished explaining the evening she had planned out for them when Y/N informed her that she’d be stuck in detention with George for the beginning portion of their girl’s night.

Y/N shrugs, trying to act casual. “I finished up my Head Girl stuff and was going back to the common room when I saw him sneaking around. I followed him, figuring I could catch him doing something. I confronted him and McGonagall saw us and gave us detention.”

“Maybe that was his plan all along, maybe he was trying to get you in trouble,” Daphne suggests.

“Yeah but he got in trouble too, Daph,” Y/N reminds her with a laugh.

The other girl shrugs, taking a bite of her Yorkshire pudding. “I didn’t say it was a smart plan.” Marcus and Adrian arrive then, taking their respective seats next to the girls.

“Who didn’t have a smart plan?” Marcus asks as he starts to pile food on his plate.

“George Weasley,” Y/N answers, batting away Adrian’s hand as he tries to steal her roll. “I caught him sneaking around one of the hallways after curfew and McGonagall rolled up on us and gave us detention.”

“Detention? On a Friday night? What about our hot date?” Adrian teases, making another attempt at stealing her roll.

Y/N flips him off and lets him have it. “The only hot date you’re going to have tonight is your right hand.”

Y/N groans as she picks up another teapot to clean. Her and George have been serving their detention in complete silence for twenty minutes and her brain feels like it’s going to mush. “Is detention always this boring?” she asks, not really expecting George to respond.

“No. But mostly because I’m usually with Fred, not you,” George replies dully.

“Oh, how you wound me, George,” she responds, mocking the tone he had used with her on the first day of term.

They work together in silence for a few minutes before George puts down the teapot he had been scrubbing and tosses his rag to the side. “So, I asked Ginny,” he says, turning to look at Y/N.

Y/N gives him a look as she turns to face him as well, discarding what she had been doing. “Asked Ginny what?”

George rolls his eyes at her, clearly annoyed that Y/N had forgotten the conversation they had in the hall the previous night. “Why she told you about the meeting at the Hogshead, about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Oh,” she responds softly. When she had said that to George last night she hadn’t expected him to actually ask, she was just trying to get him to leave her alone. “And what did she say?” George gives her a look, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re the one that brought it up.”

George chuckles at her frustration. “Aw come on, I’m just kidding.” He pauses. “She said that Astoria Greengrass talks about you a ton, about how you’re different than other Slytherins. She said something about how you got into a fight with your friends, and she decided that if she talked to you and you were cool enough, she would invite you.”

“So, I’ve got the Ginny Weasley stamp of approval? I’m honored,” she says with a laugh, her surprise evident in her tone. “Does that make me alright then? Since I’m different than other Slytherins? Whatever that means.”

George shrugs his shoulders. “I think I know what she means.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him he continues. “Oh, come on don��t act like you don’t know it. You’re nice.”

Y/N scoffs, lightly shoving his arm. “Slytherins being mean is just a stereotype, George. Tons of the people in my house are nice. Daphne is nice, and so are Marcus and Adrian.”

“Cut the crap, Y/N,” he chides. “Daphne, Marcus and Adrian are nice to you and the other members of your house because you all share that in common. But you’re nice to, well most people honestly. Everyone even, except maybe me and Fred. But we aren’t nice to you either, so I understand it.”

Y/N opens her mouth to respond, but George puts his hand up to stop her. “Take yesterday, for example. I saw you, with Neville. The way you made him feel better about his failure, how you encouraged him and helped him improve. Daphne or Marcus or any other Slytherin wouldn’t have done that. They’d have laughed in his face and you know it.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits softly, a slight blush on her cheeks from George’s kind words.

“So, you’re so worried about your NEWTs that you’re willing to spend hours practicing a spell you mastered in 2nd year? Thought you were top of our class?” he teases.

Y/N plays with her fingers and fidgets in her seat. She knows the question is innocent, but it feels like George can see right into her soul. That’s he looking at all her worst fears. “I am, yeah. I need at least an Exceeds Expectations on my defense against the dark arts NEWT to be a Healer and I’ve already worked so hard, I can’t screw it up now, not when I’m this close.”

George is silent for a moment and he turns in his chair so he’s fully facing Y/N. When she does the same he speaks. “I didn’t know you want to be a healer.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Weasley. What is it you said? I’m not nice to you and you’re not nice to me. It’s always been that way.”

“Yeah I guess so,” he admits. “I never imagined you as a Healer, if I’m honest. But I think you’ll be amazing at it.”

Y/N blushes and looks down. “Thanks, I appreciate it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, since I was a little kid. I used to pretend to Heal my dolls all the time. My parents even gave me a muggle doctors coat for Christmas once, I wore it like, every day,” she reminisces with a laugh.

George laughs along with her. “I fear that I may have seriously misjudged you, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, lightly shoving his shoulder.

George blushes and Y/N finds it endearing. “I figured you and your family were like the other pureblood Slytherin dynasties. That you cared about your grades to make you a more appealing bride or something.”

Y/N nods in understanding. “Yeah I don’t blame you on that one. That’s what most people think. My parents were raised like that and they hated it. All the stupid rules, the lack of freedom. They’re lucky, they were able to find genuine love with each other. And they’re still so in love, it’s actually pretty sickening,” she says with a laugh. “But they agreed that when they had kids they wouldn’t raise them like that. That they’d let them think for themselves, find their own way in life. It’s been so hard, not to send an owl to my dad and tell him all about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Really? He’d approve of it?” he asks, unable to help how surprised he sounds.

“Oh yeah,” she confirms with a laugh. “He was so angry all summer, with what the Daily Prophet is saying about Harry and Dumbledore. He even not so subtly suggested that I expand my horizons, make some friendships and connections with people from other houses. I think he’d be really excited about what Harry’s doing.”

“That’s actually really cool. I guess I definitely misjudged you then.”

They both get back to work then, but Y/N doesn’t feel as awkward anymore. She’s never bothered to have an actual conversation with either of the Weasley Twins, and she is quite surprised to find that she actually really enjoyed it.

When Y/N and George leave the transfiguration classroom a few hours later she’s exhausted and silently thanks Merlin that she is a Witch, because cleaning the muggle way is dreadful. Despite the late hour Y/N is surprised to see that the hallway isn’t empty. Adrian and Fred are leaning up against the wall across from the transfiguration classroom a few feet apart, glaring at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks with a soft laugh, altering both boys of their arrival.

“I wanted to make sure George was alright. You’ve been spouting about your grand revenge plan all week, I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and pull anything while you two were alone,” Fred answers, finally looking away from Adrian so he can glare at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, Weasley. I don’t care why you’re here.” When Fred flips her off she returns the gesture.

“To answer your question,” Adrian starts as he walks towards her. “I came to accompany you back to the common room. A gentleman never lets a lady walk alone at night.”

“Well then where’s this gentleman?” she teases, looking around the hallway.

Before Adrian can respond Fred laughs. “Yeah, I don’t see a lady either.” George’s laughter joins his brothers and Y/N flips them off again.

When Adrian starts to move closer to Fred, Y/N grabs his arm and pulls him into her chest. “Not here, Adrian,” she whispers. “McGonagall is right in there,” she reminds him, gesturing towards the open classroom door with her head.

“You are so lucky, weasel,” Adrian practically growls at him. Y/N wraps her arms around Adrian’s waist and starts to pull him down the hall away from Fred and George. Adrian glares at them one last time before he turns forward and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “You should have let me hit him. One good hit would have been worth a month’s detention.”

“Not this close to quidditch season it’s not. Smack a few good bludgers at him instead,” Y/N pauses and she looks up at Adrian with her best puppy dog eyes. “Piggyback ride? Please?”

Adrian sighs heavily but crouches down in front of Y/N, nonetheless. She squeals in delight, climbing onto her friend’s back. Adrian grips her thighs tightly as he stands. “Ready?” Once he feels Y/N nod he sets off towards the common room. “You’re lucky I love you, brat.”

When Fred and George slide into their seats behind Y/N in Potions on Monday morning they don’t say a word. When she saw them enter the room she had tensed up, just waiting for whatever snarky comment they were bound to make. So, when they take their seats without a word, Y/N can’t help but turn around to look at them.

“What’s wrong with you two?” When neither of them responds, Y/N waves her hand in front of their faces. “Hello? Earth to Nitwit 1 and Nitwit 2.” She expected her insult to get them to at least look at her, but both of their focus is on the blackboard in the front of the room. She huffs in annoyance. “Whatever be pricks. I don’t care.” She turns back around and crosses her arms, trying to convince herself that she in fact doesn’t care that they’re ignoring her.

“Will you stop staring at them? It’s weird,” Marcus scolds Y/N that night at dinner, kicking her shin under the table to get her attention.

Y/N kicks him back, finally tearing her attention away from Fred and George. “They’re planning something,” she insists.

Daphne rolls her eyes and throws a carrot at Y/N. “First you complain that they’re always loud and bothering you and now you’re complaining that they aren’t bothering you. Will you just give it a rest? Be thankful that they’ve finally decided to leave you alone.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at Daphne before she takes a bite out of the carrot she had thrown at her. She knows Daphne is right, but she can’t help but be bothered that Fred and George aren’t even trying to annoy her. As much as she hates to admit it, she misses their antics. Y/N had really enjoyed George’s company during their detention and part of her had hoped that maybe their newfound acquaintanceship would have carried over once they were no longer the only people in the room.

So, she had found herself quite disappointed that he hadn’t said a word to her all day. He hadn’t even looked at her. Y/N thought she had felt his gaze on her during Charms, but when she turned around to check he was focused on Flitwick.

“Daph is right,” Adrian whispers in her ear, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “They’re finally leaving you alone, you should be happy.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her gaze falling upon Fred and George once again. “I am happy,” she lies. “I just know them too well. They’re planning something big. They’re trying to throw me off.” She flips her friends off when they all groan.

“What makes you think they’re planning something?” Marcus asks. “Did something happen between you and George during detention? You didn’t say too much about it.”

Y/N bites her lip. She hadn’t said much to her friends about her detention when her and Adrian arrived back in the common room that night, just that it was mind numbingly boring. She didn’t want them to know that she had not only had a conversation with George Weasley, but she had actually enjoyed it.

“No, nothing happened. We sat there cleaning teapots for hours, McGonagall came back and she let us go,” she says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “He didn’t even say two words to me.”

“Exactly, so chill out. Enjoy the peace,” Daphne says.

When Y/N finally collapses in her bed that night she can’t seem to fall asleep despite how tired she is. She tosses and turns, her mind wandering to George and why she’s so bothered by the sudden lack of attention she’s getting from him. Her stomach lurches, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.

I have a crush on George Weasley.

Y/N spends the rest of the week avoiding both Weasley Twins. She sits as far away from them as possible, refuses to look at them and even goes as far as to hide in an empty classroom when she sees them heading towards her one afternoon. Y/N is determined to extinguish whatever positive feelings she has towards George. She’s spent the past seven years hating his guts, and she is not about to let herself reverse all of that over some stupid crush. Unfortunately for Y/N, on Saturday morning her fake Galleon burns red, letting her know that there will be another DA meeting that night.

Which is why she’s currently heading towards the Room of Requirement, her stomach a pit of dread and despair. “Get it together, Y/N,” she mutters to herself. Y/N is standing just outside the room of requirement and she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

Y/N pulls the door open and goes to head in, but she runs smack into the chest of someone trying to leave. An involuntary squeal leaves her lips as her body tenses up, preparing itself to hit the ground. Except she doesn’t even fall. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and she’s pulled into the other person’s chest.

“Woah there. Watch where you’re going.”

Y/N doesn’t have to look up to know that George Weasley is holding her in his arms. She can feel her cheeks heat up and she pushes away from him, needing to get away from him as fast as possible. “I could say the same to you, Weasley,” she sneers.

Even though her tone is crude Y/N can feel her heart fluttering in her chest and her skin is tingling from his touch. She looks up at his face, letting her eyes linger on his lips for just a second. She tries not to think about what it would feel like for him to grip her waist as they kissed.

“No need to be so feisty, Y/N,” George teases, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts.

She rolls her eyes and steps aside so George can leave, Fred following close behind him. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to mow me down I wouldn’t need to be,” she responds, watching as Fred flips her off behind his back.

She watches them walk away for a moment before heading into the room of requirement. Her palms are sweaty even from that small interaction with George and Y/N tries to subtly wipe them off on her skirt as she joins Ginny, Hermione and Ron in the back of the room.

“Where are they off to?” she asks after they’ve been talking for a few minutes, not wanting to seem too interested in George’s movements.

“Filch has been sniffing around for Umbridge, she knows Harry is up to something. So, Fred and George are going to slip him something that’ll put him out of commission for few hours,” Hermione explains.

Y/N nods. Hermione had made a few complaints to both Y/N and Miles, a Ravenclaw in her year that was Head Boy, that Fred and George had been spending their free time making an array of joke products and then testing them out on first years. “Despite the fact that I have been the victim of a Weasley product, I can’t say I feel bad for Filch.”

Once Fred and George slip back into the room of requirement and give Harry a thumbs up, he starts the meeting. They’re going to continue working on disarming, and Y/N immediately searches for Neville in the crowd. Neville certainly isn’t the most talented wizard, but Y/N can tell that he’s full of determination and she likes working with him. When Harry sets them off to work Neville joins her.

“You better watch out, Y/N, I’ve been practicing,” Neville says with a laugh as they take their stances.

“Alright then, Longbottom, let’s see what you’ve got.”

When Y/N leaves the Room of Requirement later that night, she can still hear Neville chattering to his friends happily as they head back to Gryffindor tower. It had taken him most of the meeting, but Neville had finally managed to get her wand to fly out of her hand. She was extremely happy for him as the other members of the DA came around to congratulate him, and not just because George had pressed up against her back as he patted Neville on the shoulder.

“Sneaking away without saying Goodbye, Y/N? I’m hurt,” George scolds teasingly as he comes up behind her.

She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh, so you’re speaking to me again?” she says as he falls into step next to her. He’s standing so close that their arms almost brush, and Y/N swallows down the butterflies that come up her throat.

“Aw, did little Y/N miss me?” George teases, shoving her shoulder.

“No,” Y/N responds far too quickly, trying not to get flustered from the contact. “Just surprised that you managed to go a whole week without annoying me that’s all.”

“Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.”

She bites her lip, trying to contain her glee. Cut it out, she scolds herself. George Weasley is nothing more than an annoying git, you do not like him.

“Why are you following me, anyway? Last I checked Gryffindor’s common room is in the other direction,” she questions as they head down towards the Great Hall.

Y/N watches George shrug out of the corner of her eye. His face is blank, but Y/N can tell that he’s nervous. “Making sure you’re not getting up to anything is all.”

“Or you’re distracting me while your brother sets up some kind of trap,” she responds.

Suddenly she feels George’s hand wrap around her wrist and he’s pulling her into a nearby broom closet. As he slams the door shut behind them Y/N can’t help but notice just how close they are. Her back is pressed up against the wall and George is standing only a few inches away, his hands on either side of her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N demands, hoping that her voice doesn’t shake. George is towering over her, and Y/N can see the muscles on his forearms bulging in her peripheral vision. It is taking every ounce of willpower in her body to stay still.

George leans down as he chuckles and his warm breath tickles Y/N’s cheeks, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “I think what you mean to say is thank you because I just saved your ass from serving another detention with McGonagall.”

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “McGonagall? I didn’t see-.“ Y/N’s sentence is cut short as George places his hand over her mouth to silence her. Her breathing involuntarily speeds up and she hopes that George can’t feel the blush on her cheeks. Y/N can hear footsteps approaching the broom closet and she closes her eyes in fear of being caught in such a compromising position with George.

Thankfully the footsteps disappear just as quicky as they had come and Y/N sighs in relief when George takes his hand away. “Thank you,” she mutters. Y/N can still feel the imprint of his hand on her mouth and it makes her stomach feel queasy.

“You’re welcome,” George says, sounding pleased with himself. “We should probably stay here for a moment or two longer, just to make sure she’s gone.”

Y/N nods, her head tilting back so she can look at George’s face. She examines his features closely, trying to commit them to memory. After her realization earlier in the week she had spent every moment trying not to think about George, but now that they’re standing there so close he’s the only thing she can think about.

George clears his throat suddenly, breaking Y/N from her thoughts. “We’re uh, we’re probably good to go.”

“Yeah,” she agrees softly, trying not to let the disappointment she feels seep into her voice.

George lingers a moment longer, before he pulls away and slowly opens the door to their hiding spot. Y/N watches as he checks the hallway and follows him out when the coast is clear.

“Well um. Thanks for that,” she stutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” Y/N starts to walk away, but she pauses when George follows behind her. She turns to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“You might still be up to something. I should follow you, just to make sure,” he responds confidently.

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anymore, not wanting her giddiness to become noticeable. They walk side by side silently with Y/N glancing at George every few steps. As they reach the landing Y/N goes to turn down the corridor that will lead her down into the dungeons when she runs smack into someone for the second time that night. Except this time, it’s much less enjoyable.

“Professor Umbridge! I am so sorry,” Y/N apologizes as she fixes her balance. She may hate the woman, but she’ll be nice to her if it’ll get her out of a detention.

“Oh Ms. Y/L/N it is quite alright,” she practically squeaks while smiling at Y/N. Y/N imagines it’s meant to seem sweet, but it looks more like an evil grin. Umbridge’s eyes suddenly narrow as she looks past Y/N at George. “Mr. Weasley! Out in the corridors past curfew again I see. That’ll be detention with me, Monday and Tuesday evening.”

Y/N can hear George sputter behind her, and she turns around, cringing at the angry look on his face. “What about Y/N?” he asks angrily. “She’s out past curfew as well!”

Umbridge tuts, moving past Y/N as she heads back towards her office. “Yes, but Ms. Y/L/N is Head Girl I’m sure she has a good reason for being out in the halls.” Umbridge puts her hand up to stop George from responding. “Now that is enough out of you, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you head back to your common room before I make your detention a whole week.”

They both watch as Umbridge walks away and when Y/N turns to look at George, he’s already watching her. “I’m really sorry about that, George,” she says quietly.

George scoffs. “Yeah whatever.” He stalks off then, and it takes everything in Y/N to not follow behind him.

As Y/N enters the common room her plan is to stalk off to her dorm and get in bed as quick as possible. She’s gone through a whirlwind of emotions over the past few hours and all she wants to do is fall asleep, so she doesn’t have to feel any of them. All of that changes however, since when Y/N finally steps into the common room there is music blaring and people are everywhere.

Y/N makes eye contact with Adrian across the crowd and he clumsily waves her over. She slowly makes her way through the crowd. The air is heavy and hot from all of the people and it smells of firewhiskey. When she finally reaches Adrian, he stumbles over his own feet as he pulls her closer and she notices Marcus is seated on the couch with Daphne sprawled out across his lap; all of her friends are clearly very, very drunk.

“Y/N! You made it!” Daphne yells happily when she notices Y/N’s arrival. She wobbles as she gets out of Marcus’ lap and practically falls into Y/N, giving her a tight hug.

“Someone’s having a good time,” Y/N says with a laugh. Drunk Daphne is one of Y/N’s favorite things, and it’s rare that she gets to see it. Daphne is always prim and proper. She never has a hair out of place and she rarely lets herself goof off with her friends; she’s always their voice of reason. So, when she lets loose, she really goes for it, and it always leaves Y/N in hysterics.

“Where’ve you been? Party started ages ago,” Marcus says slowly, his words slurring together. He grabs Daphne’s hands and tries to pull her into his lap, but they’re both so drunk that they end up falling over, and Daphne somehow ends up on the ground with Marcus on top of her.

Y/N and Adrian burst out in laughter, with Adrian leaning on Y/N for support. His drink sloshes in his hand, and Y/N takes it from him to avoid it spilling everywhere. She eyes his glass warily, trying to decide if she wants to join her friends in drunk land. Her plan had been to sleep away her emotions but drinking them away will work just as well.

“I guess I have some catching up to do then.” Y/N downs the entire glass in one go, her warm bed long forgotten.

A few hours and far too many glasses of Firewhiskey later the party has died down and Y/N is slumped over in the corner of the common room, cradled in a large pile of pillows that Adrian had assembled for her. Daphne and Marcus had disappeared several minutes ago, probably to make out somewhere and once they had Adrian moved from the nearby couch to join Y/N. He’s laying on his back, head in Y/N’s lap as he listens to her complain about George Weasley.

“He’s just so annoying,” she drawls, her words coming out fairly jumbled. Y/N has said the same sentence at least five times in the past 10 minutes, but she’s too drunk to remember or care. She’s been rambling on about George and every mildly annoying this he’s done since the moment they’ve met and she’s having a hard time remembering what she’s already mentioned. “And his face, don’t even get me started on his face.”

When Adrian groans she smacks him on the forehead. “Can’t you talk about something else,” he murmurs. “Anything else, please.”

Y/N smacks him on the forehead again before starting to run her fingers through his hair. It’s his only weakness and she’s hoping it’ll keep him quiet. “There is nothing else to talk about,” she says, her tone condescending. “It’s empty up here, no thoughts,” she giggles, hitting herself lightly in the head with her free hand. “No thoughts, just George Weasley and his face. His pretty, pretty face. And oh god his lips. They look so damn soft. D’you think their soft?”

Adrian hums, not really paying attention to the words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. She’d started to lightly scratch his scalp as she talked, and any ability he had to comprehend the English language disappeared. “Yeah sure, whatever.”

Y/N sighs dreamily, thinking about what it would be like to kiss George. “Bet he’s really good at it,” she muses. “And his hands,” she adds a moment later, practically moaning. “They’re so big and strong. He’s got good fingers too. Bet he knows how to use them.” Y/N rubs her thighs together involuntarily as she feels herself starting to get turned on. Y/N’s eyes start to close as the copious amount of alcohol she drank starts to catch up with her. “You wanna know something funny? I don’t hate George Weasley anymore.”

“Is that so?” Adrian mumbles, starting to drift off as well.

“Mhm,” she hums. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

The next morning Y/N is awake far earlier than she’d like to be. Adrian’s elbow was digging into her back, and she tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but eventually she just gave up and pulled herself off of the floor.

Her head is pounding, she feels groggy and she desperately wants to crawl into her bed. But her stomach grumbles loudly and so instead of dragging her body down the staircase that would lead to her dorm, she drags herself towards the portrait hole, still in the clothes she had on yesterday.

When Y/N finally makes it to the Great Hall she practically crawls over to the Slytherin table and plops down in the first open seat. Thankfully it’s still early, so not many people are around and it’s fairly quiet. She starts to grab random food, not really caring what it is. She’s cursing herself for challenging Adrian to a drinking contest as she goes to grab the pitcher of orange juice, but a large hand beats her to it.

“George?” she asks in surprise when she looks up.

He doesn’t say anything as he fills her goblet up for her. He takes a seat across from her and fills his own goblet before he starts to pile eggs on his plate. “Yes?” he answers casually, as if he eats breakfast with Y/N every morning.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N watches George as he begins to eat, her eyes searching his face for some kind of hint of what he’s up to. George shrugs as a light laugh tumbles from his mouth.

“Eating breakfast?” he asks, gesturing to his plate like it’s obvious. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, watching as he grabs an apple. She watches as his fingers wrap around it and she practically drools. A tingle runs down her spine as she imagines his fingers wrapping around something else.

“Obviously I can see that you’re eating,” she says a moment later when her thoughts become PG. “I meant what are you doing sitting here. With me. At the Slytherin table.”

George smirks at her. “Why? Do I make you nervous?” His lips wrap around the apple as he takes a bite, and Y/N has to take a bite of her muffin to stop herself from moaning right there in the middle of the Great Hall.

George’s hair is ruffled from sleep, and he looks cozy in the homemade jumper he’s wearing. His eyes are soft, and his lips look even softer. Y/N is dreaming about what it would feel like to lean across the table and kiss him, when she realizes that he asked her a question.

“Not at all,” she says, her voice shaking. “It just isn’t like you, that’s all. Besides last night when you left it seemed like you were angry at me,” she trails off, her voice soft. She looks down at her plate to avoid his gaze.

“I’m sorry about that, Y/N,” George admits sheepishly. Y/N’s skin tingles when he nudges her leg with his foot under the table. She looks up to meet his gaze, instantly returning his warm smile. “It’s not your fault Umbridge is a toad.”

Y/N laughs, completely entranced by George. “I should have said something. Made up an excuse for you.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving away her apology. They both just look at each other, the food on their plates long forgotten. Y/N lets her gaze wander to George’s lips again as she thinks about kissing him. She starts to involuntarily inch closer and to her surprise, George starts doing the same thing.

“Uh, Y/N?”

Y/N and George jump apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. Y/N looks over to see Astoria standing next to her, clearly surprised by what she had just witnessed. Y/N feels her cheeks heating up, and she fidgets in her seat.

“Hey, Astoria. What’s up?” Y/N asks, trying to sound casual, like her best friend’s little sister didn’t just catch her about to kiss George in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Daphne is asking for you. She’s throwing up in the dorm bathroom.”

Y/N rolls her eyes with a huff. “Of course, she is, poor girl can’t handle her alcohol.” She stands suddenly, nodding awkwardly at George. “Weasley,” she says curtly. She gives a wayward glance to Astoria before she heads for the exit, trying to walk as quickly as possible without looking like she’s running away.

“And you don’t remember anything?” Y/N questions Adrian as they head up to breakfast on Monday morning. After she fled the Great Hall yesterday morning she’d spent the rest of the day with Daphne going between the bathroom in their dorm and her bed, with Astoria sneaking in food for them. As she sat holding Daphne’s hair back Y/N had a chance to replay the events of Saturday night, and all of the things she had said to Adrian about George became clear to her. She was panicking all night, hoping that he didn’t remember any of what she had said.

Adrian nods. “Not a thing. Last thing I remember is you challenging me to a drinking contest. Everything after that is completely blank. Probably due to the 10 shots we took,” he says with a laugh. “I was so confused when I woke up in the common room.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. She’s barely come to terms with the fact that George Weasley is no longer her mortal enemy, but someone she truly cares deeply for, so she is definitely not ready to share that with her friends.

“Why do you care so much? You confess your love for me or something?” Adrian asks as they enter the Great Hall.

Y/N lets her eyes scan the Gryffindor table, a pink blush forming on her cheeks when she spots George. He looks prim and proper in his school robes and his hair is neat. She bites her lip, imagining what it would be like to fuss up his hair with her hands with their bodies pressed together so tightly that their uniforms wrinkled. When George suddenly makes eye contact with her she looks away, bringing her attention back to Adrian.

“Nothing like that,” she insists, shoving him playfully. “I was just rambling on and on. I sounded like an idiot, most of it didn’t even make sense.”

“What didn’t make sense?” Daphne asks as Y/N and Adrian sit across from her and Marcus.

“The things I rambled on about in Adrian’s ear on Saturday after you two disappeared,” Y/N says with a laugh. She reaches for the orange juice, a small smile appearing on her lips as it reminds her of George.

“Aw you were rambley drunk? How cute. I’m sad I missed it,” Marcus teases.

Y/N throws a grape at him. “If you weren’t so busy sucking face with Daphne, you could have witnessed it.” Marcus and Daphne both blush at that, causing Adrian and Y/N to laugh. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Pucey. You were cuddly drunk. I ran my hand through your hair, and you were practically mewling.”

Adrian blushes and bats at Y/N’s hand as she pinches his cheek. “Thank god I don’t remember that then.”

Unlike last week, Y/N spends most of her time on Monday and Tuesday trying to get close to George. She heads to meals a tad earlier than her friends, hoping that he’ll join her briefly. She gets to class early, hoping that he may arrive on his own and they can talk. But every time she tries she either doesn’t happen to run into him or he’s too busy messing around with Fred to notice her presence.

“Oof. Sorry,” Y/N grunts as she runs into someone. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects is sick, so Y/N volunteered to spend most of her Tuesday night patrolling the halls of the castle. Patrolling was one of her favorite duties as a Prefect, since it gave her time to just be by herself and think. She had let her mind wander to George, and she was in the middle of quite the raunchy daydream.

“What are you doing? Trying to mow me down?” the person asks with a chuckle.

“George, hey,” she greets airily. Y/N takes a step back so she can look up at him, a dopey smile on her face. “What are you doing out here? Kinda late, innit?”

“Maybe I’m here to see you,” he responds, causing Y/N to look away and blush. “I was serving my detention with Umbridge,” he reminds her, gesturing towards the corridor he had just come down.

She glances at her watch before looking back to him. “And she just let you out now? What did she have you do, polish all those weird cat plates?”

George chuckles. “Writing lines, actually.”

“Must have been enough to fill a book with how late it is,” she jokes as they start to walk together. George fidgets beside her, and she gives him a look. “You alright?”

George hums and absentmindedly brings a hand up to run through his hair. Y/N’s eyes widen when she notices the back of his hand is bleeding, and she grabs it before he has a chance to hide it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles, trying to pull his hand away.

Y/N tightens her grip, too focused on his injury to think about how perfect his hand feels in hers. “What is this, George? How did this happen?”

George sighs. “Umbridge had me use her special quill to write my lines.”

Y/N ghosts her finger over the wound, giving George an apologetic look when he winces. As she examines the wound she can make out what is it, the wound in his hand spells out ‘I must not break the rules’ in his messy handwriting. A sudden wave of rage washes over Y/N and she releases George’s hand so she can stomp towards Umbridge’s office.

“Y/N what are you doing?” George asks as he follows, though he’s pretty sure he knows that answer.

“I’m going to go give that toad a piece of my mind. That’s how she punishes people. Torture? That’s mental.”

George catches up to her quickly, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. She breathes in his scent, wanting to just melt into his embrace. But she resists the urge and struggles against it, desperately trying to get out.

“Let me go, George,” she grumbles, wiggling in his grip.

“Absolutely not, Y/N. What good is yelling at her going to do? All that’s going to do is get you in detention as well and I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.”

Y/N wiggles against his grip for a few more moments before she gives up, her anger deflating. She relaxes in George’s arms and buries her face in his chest. She feels lightheaded as she takes slow, deep breaths, enjoying being this close to George. They stand like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other’s presence, only breaking apart when they hear the door to Umbridge’s office open.

“Shit,” George whispers. He releases Y/N from his grip so he can grab her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Quick, follow me.” George leads them down the hallway and through a few different corridors before he stops in front of a tapestry.

“What are you doing?” she asks as the sound of footsteps echoes through the empty space.

George shushes her, and Y/N watches in amazement as he taps his wand to the tapestry, and it swings to the side, revealing a hole in the wall.

“Woah, this is so cool,” she comments as George pulls her in behind him. The tapestry immediately closes behind them, and George waves his wand so the torches that line the walls light up. “How do you know about this place?”

George shrugs, leaning up against the wall. “Fred and I have explored the entire castle. There isn’t a secret passageway or hidden corridor that we haven’t found.”

They stand there in silence while Y/N looks around the small passageway. She can feel George’s eyes on her and she’s doing everything she can to not return his gaze. Her body feels like it’s on fire, the feeling of George’s grip on her shoulders still fresh in her mind.

“You know if you want to spend time alone with me all you have to do is ask,” she teases a moment later, finally looking at George. She’s leaning on the wall opposite him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She starts to fiddle with a stray string on the bottom hem of her skirt, needing to keep her hands busy to avoid wrapping them around George’s tie to pull him close. “You don’t have to keep pulling me into dark rooms.”

George looks Y/N up and down, a smirk forming on his face. “Is that so? After you practically ran away from me at breakfast on Sunday I didn’t think you’d want to be alone with me.” He sounds confident, but Y/N can tell that there’s an underlying tinge of insecurity in his voice.

Y/N frowns and pushes away from the wall so she can take a small step towards him. “I tried to catch you alone all day yesterday and today,” she says softly. “But every time I tried you were with your stupid brother.”

“Well every time I tried to catch you alone you were with your stupid friends,” he says with a chuckle, copying her frustrated tone. George takes a small step towards her, so there’s only a few feet between them.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For running away from you the other day. Astoria startled me and I panicked,” she pauses, taking another small step forward. They’re standing so close that Y/N can smell him, and her brain goes fuzzy. “I should have stayed,” she admits quietly.

George licks his lips as he takes a final small step forward. They’re now only a few centimeters apart, and he grips Y/N’s hip softly. “What would have happened?” His eyes flick down to Y/N’s lips before meeting hers again. “If you had stayed, what would have happened?”

Y/N can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her face is warm. “I. I would have.”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. George leans down and presses their lips together, kissing her sweetly as his other hand comes up to rest on her neck. Y/N feels lightheaded as her lips start to move with George’s, her arms winding around his neck. George backs them up as he deepens the kiss, pressing Y/N up against the wall. She moans as her back hits the hard stone, allowing George to lick into her mouth.

“I would have done that,” she finishes once George pulls away, her breathing heavy.

George chuckles before kissing her again briefly. “You sound so fucking hot when you moan,” he teases, kissing her again as her cheeks flush pink.

Y/N returns his kiss eagerly, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck as both his hands come to rest on her hips. Her brain is in overdrive, trying to process everything that’s happening. She wants to commit it all to memory, in case this is the only time it happens. She’s thinking about how good of a kisser he is, and how perfectly their mouths fit together when George pulls away.

“Bet you would sound even hotter moaning my name,” he whispers in her ear, before he starts to trail kisses down Y/N’s neck.

A soft whine leaves Y/N’s lips as she tilts her head back, giving George more room to kiss. She tugs his hair and the groan he lets out against her neck goes right to her core and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach. His grip on her hips tightens as he begins to suck a mark into her neck. “George,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed.

Y/N can feel George smirk into her neck before he pulls away and reconnects their lips. He pushes their bodies together tighter, shoving her legs apart with one of his own. She instinctively grinds down against it to get relief from her aching pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” George growls as he breaks their kiss. He looks over her as she continues to grind against his thigh, in awe of how beautiful she is. Her face is flushed red, her lips are swollen from his kisses and breathy moans are falling from her mouth as her hips move back and forth.

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth to try and contain the noises that are creeping up her throat as she works towards her climax. Her hips move sloppily, giving her clit the perfect amount of friction against George’s muscular thigh. “Fuck,” she breathes and opens her eyes so she can gaze into his, a moan falling from her lips when she sees how dark his eyes are.

George kisses her for a brief moment, his cock starting to harden in his trousers. He craves the feeling of her lips, but the noises coming from her mouth are too intoxicating to cut off. “You look so pretty, darling, getting yourself off on my thigh.”

George’s words only turn Y/N on more and she starts to move her hips faster, desperate for her release. “George,” she moans, tugging on his hair again. “Please, please, George,” she begs.

George presses kisses to Y/N’s jaw as his grip on her hips tightens. He pulls her down harder against his thigh and smirks when she whines loudly. “What do you want darling? Hm?”

“I’m so close,” she gasps. “Please, George. Can I,” her words turn into a moan as George forces her down harder against this thigh again. Y/N can feel her climax approaching and her body feels like it’s on fire. “Please, let me come, George. Please,” she begs breathily.

George’s cock twitches in his trousers and he groans as he realizes what Y/N is begging him for. Permission. “Go on darling, come for me.”

George’s voice is husky, and as soon as the words leave his mouth Y/N’s hips stutter as she reaches her climax, George’s name falling from her mouth. She tugs his hair lightly as she comes, pleasure washing over her like a wave. George rubs her hips and presses open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck as her hips start to slow down.

“Oh my god,” Y/N pants, resting her forehead against George’s shoulder. Her legs feel like jelly and a moan falls from her mouth when she shifts on George’s thigh and her sensitive clit rubs against her panties.

George laughs lightly and brings a hand up to stroke Y/N’s hair. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. He removes his leg from between hers but keeps a tight grip on her hip to make sure she’s steady. “Like really fucking hot, Y/N. Holy shit.”

Y/N buries her face in George’s neck, pressing a few light kisses to his skin. “No, it was embarrassing,” she mumbles. She’d never felt the need to ask for permission to come with any of the other people she’d been intimate with, but there was something about George. Y/N felt comfortable with him, she felt safe enough to let her walls down; to be completely vulnerable to him.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly. George waits for Y/N to pick her head up and look up at him before he continues. “You will never have anything to be embarrassed about with me. Ever.”

Instead of responding, Y/N kisses him desperately and reaches down to palm his hardening erection through his trousers. George groans into the kiss, his hips automatically rolling to meet her movements. Her lips start to kiss across his jaw and down George’s neck, nibbling lightly.

Y/N pauses her kissing so she can lean up and whisper into George’s ear. “Your turn,” she teases. George curses softly as she removes her hand from his crotch, and she places a quick kiss on his lips before she pushes him away slightly. Y/N slowly sinks down to her knees and starts to work at the button of George’s trousers.

“God you are gorgeous,” he says dreamily as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

Y/N can feel the blush creeping up her face as she undoes George’s trousers. She looks up at him as she pulls his trousers and boxers down together just enough to free his cock. Y/N slowly wraps her hand around the base of his cock, a smirk forming on her face when he groans.

George’s grip on her hair tightens as Y/N begins to slowly stroke him. “Merlin that feels good,” George moans, causing Y/N to increase her pace.

She leans forward and takes him into her mouth, her hand continuing to stroke what she can’t fit in her mouth. George is quite well endowed, and Y/N rubs her thighs together as she starts to bob her head, imaging what he’d feel like inside her.

“Such a good girl. Sucking my cock so well,” George praises. His breathing starts to get heavier as Y/N’s tongue starts to swirl around his sensitive head and when she looks up at him he has to look away to avoid coming right then and there. Y/N looks absolutely sinful with her lips wrapped around his cock, and George is sure that image will be imprinted in his brain forever.

George’s grunts echo throughout the passageway as Y/N starts to move faster, wanting George to fill her mouth with his release. She takes him down even further, gagging slightly when the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat. George uses the grip he has on Y/N’s hair to help guide her head, his hips starting to slowly meet her movement.

Y/N hums in approval and pulls her head off of his cock for a moment to catch her breath. She strokes him with her hand for a moment, her thumb circling his sensitive head. “Fuck my mouth George, please,” she begs, before swallowing him down again.

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you Y/N?” he teases as he wraps his hand in her hair, gripping it tightly. “Such a slut for my cock already, hm?” He lets out a groan as he starts to move her head on his cock, his hips meeting each stroke. “Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels amazing,” he moans, starting to fuck her mouth faster. “Good girl,” he praises as she gags around him.

Y/N can’t help but slip her hand under her skirt and into her panties, letting her index and middle finger toy with her clit. George’s cock is heavy against her tongue and his dirty words are sending shivers down her spine and into her core. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm, and she moans around George’s cock as drool drips down her chin. She starts to work her clit faster, her second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Getting close, darling,” he grunts. “Gonna shoot my load right into your pretty little mouth.” George watches as Y/N squirms, a wicked grin forming on his mouth. “Are you touching yourself darling?” A shiver runs down his spine and he slams his cock into the back of her throat harder when she hums around him. “Such a dirty little girl you are, Y/N.” His tone is patronizing, and it only turns Y/N on more. “Love having my cock in your mouth that much, hm?”

Y/N whines around his cock, her hips moving in time with her finger’s movements on her clit. She brings her free hand up under her shirt and bra so she can massage her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple. Her climax is building rapidly, and Y/N looks up at George her eyes full of arousal and desperation.

George bites his lip as he looks down at Y/N, knowing exactly what she needs. His strokes become shallow as his own orgasm approaches, a low moan falling from his lips. “Go on, darling. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, her second orgasm even stronger than the first. Her lips clamp down around George’ cock even tighter, bringing him to his climax as well. He pulls her hair as he empties himself into Y/N’s mouth, her name spilling from his mouth in hard pants. She continues to toy with her clit lightly as aftershocks of pleasure continue to roll through her body.

George loosens his grip on her hair as he slowly pulls out, his mouth running dry as saliva and some of his cum dribble down Y/N’s chin. He watches as she swallows his release, his cock twitching at the sight. He tucks his cock back into his trousers, wincing as the head brushes up against the fabric. Y/N looks up at him as she wipes the drool from her chin, looking far too innocent after what just happened. Her lips are red and swollen, almost begging for him to kiss her.

He releases her hair and helps Y/N to her feet. His arms wrap around her waist and he brings their lips together. They kiss slowly and messily, both of them too tired to care. George licks into her mouth, not caring that he can taste himself on her tongue. They stand there kissing for a few minutes, only breaking apart when the need for air becomes too much.

“You think the coast is clear?” Y/N asks with a giggle, her voice hoarse.

George chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I certainly hope so, because I’m absolutely knackered and if I have to spend another minute in here with you after what just happened I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

Wednesday morning arrives far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but when Daphne starts to shake her awake it feels like she hadn’t even slept at all.

“Five more minutes, mum, “ she groans. Her throat feels raw and Y/N can’t help but blush as the memories of last night run through her mind. She had wanted to confess everything to George as they snuck out of the passageway, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As they stepped out into the empty hallway the haze of sexual tension around them broke, and when George headed off back to his dorm with nothing more than a wink and a kiss on the cheek Y/N’s stomach sank.

Y/N had felt nothing but pure joy after her and George’s activities and her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. She knew that she was in love with him, and after he had been so tender with her she was sure that he returned her feelings. But after he left her behind so quickly, she couldn’t help but think it had all been in her head.

“Five more minutes will turn to 10, which will turn into you missing breakfast. And you know how you get when you’re hungry, so get your ass out of bed,” Daphne scolds lightly.

Y/N groans but rolls out of bed, her heart heavy and her knees aching.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Daphne whispers to Y/N as they enter the Great Hall, gesturing towards Fred and George.

Y/N allows herself to look quickly, her heart rate increasing as her eyes pass over George. Memories of last night swim to the surface, and she swallows hard, willing them away. The twins have their heads together and they’re talking feverishly, clearly up to something. “Dunno really,” she answers, tearing her gaze away. “Probably planning their next prank or something.” Y/N and Daphne sit down with Adrian and Marcus and she grabs some toast, not really feeling up to eating.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Daphne asks as they start to eat.

Y/N gives her a look. “What am I gonna do about what?”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Come one, it’s been what, two weeks since the twins have done something to you? They’ve gotta be over there cooking up some grand scheme against you.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she suddenly feels sick as George’s actions over the past few days start to make sense. He wasn’t in love with her, he was trying to embarrass her? Use her? Get information on her for him and Fred to use against her? She wasn’t exactly sure, but her heart sinks into her stomach. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

“I think I’m gonna head to Potions early,” she says suddenly, standing up. Adrian, Marcus and Daphne give her a look.

“You haven’t even eaten anything,” Adrian says, trying to pull her back down.

She bats his hand away and gathers her bag. “I’m not really that hungry. I’ll see you guys later.”

Without another word she’s heading out of the Great Hall, her friends and George all casting her back worried glances.

Y/N spends all day ignoring George despite his efforts to get her to pay attention to him. He spends all of Potions throwing rolled up pieces of parchment at her back, he tries to pull faces at her all during lunch and he spends most of charms slipping her notes. It had taken all of her willpower not to let him break her down. She’s so desperately in love with him that she’s almost willing to let him break her heart just so she can be close to him again.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

Y/N doesn’t look up from her Herbology assignment as George takes a seat across from her. Her friends had been giving her worried glances all day, so after a quick dinner she tucked herself away in a corner of the library to avoid the confrontation she’s sure she’d get in the common room. She had figured she’d be safe from George as well, since Y/N is sure she’s never seen him, or Fred enter the library in the seven years they’ve been at school.

“What’s going on with you?” George asks softly when she doesn’t say anything. He’d been looking forward to seeing Y/N in the morning, and after her weird behavior at breakfast he had tried everything to get her attention.

Y/N glances at George quickly before she turns back to her assignment. “I could say the same to you,” she says coldly. When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and puts her quill down, finally looking at George fully. “What were you and Fred talking about this morning? During breakfast.”

George taps his fingers against the table, his eyes starting deeply into Y/N’s. “He was asking me why I got back from my detention so late last night.” His cheeks are flushed pink and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling.

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him how easy I was? How desperate I was for you? How I touched myself? That I asked you for permission to finish?” she sneers, suddenly filled with rage.

George’s jaw practically drops to the table, his eyes widening in shock. “What? Why would I say any of that to him?” George asks, watching as Y/N starts to gather up her things.

“Because last night was just some big joke to you, wasn’t it?” she asks, as if the answer is obvious. “You don’t have feelings for me, you were just trying to get me into bed so you could have blackmail material or something. And I fell for it. Because I’m a big dumb idiot who is too in love to realize when she’s being played.”

Before George can even process what Y/N has just said she’s gone, tears streaming down her face and her heart broken in her chest.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Daphne asks, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

She isn’t completely surprised that Daphne had come to find her. When Y/N returned from the library, she was full on crying. She had ignored her friend’s attempts to talk to her and stormed right to her dorm room so she could crawl into her bed and sob. Daphne starts to stroke her hair, and Y/N wipes away some of her tears.

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N mumbles into her pillow.

Daphne’s hand pauses. “Come again?”

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N huffs, turning over so she’s facing Daphne. Her whole-body tenses, waiting for Daphne to laugh or make some kind of snide comment. But it doesn’t happen. Instead Daphne starts to stroke her hair again as she wipes away some of her tears.

“Honestly that’d make me cry as well,” she says with a laugh, trying to get Y/N to smile. When it works and Y/N cracks a small smile Daphne continues. “So, what happened? Did he say something rude? Because if he did I swear to you I’ll have Adrian and Marcus break into Gryffindor tower and beat him up.”

Y/N can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. She sits up in bed, wiping away the last few tears. “I ran into him last night when I was doing my rounds. And Umbridge almost caught us so we ran and hid in this weird secret passageway and um,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “We kissed. And fooled around a little. Or a lot.”

“And that’s why you’re crying? Was it bad? Did you fake your orgasm?” Daphne teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush starts to form on her cheeks. “No, that’s not it. It was quite enjoyable I’ll have you know,” she says playfully, shoving Daphne’s shoulder lightly. “It was what happened afterward.”

“He said something stupid, didn’t he? My offer still stands, I will have Adrian and Marcus go beat him up,” Daphne says her tone serious.

“He didn’t really say anything,” Y/N explains, choosing to ignore Daphne’s threats for now. “But you said it yourself this morning at breakfast. He was talking with Fred, probably planning some prank on me.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat and blink away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It was all probably just some prank or set up or blackmail or something. I mean why would he wanna be with me,” she says lamely, looking down at her hands.

Daphne scoffs and puts her finger under Y/N’s chin, forcing her to return her gaze. “If George Weasley doesn’t want to be with you then he is a big fat idiot. Y/N you are amazing. And beautiful and smart and way too nice for your own good. You may have questionable taste in men, but I’ve been snogging Marcus since third year so I’m not really one to judge.”

Y/N laughs and pulls Daphne into a hug. Her heart still aches for George, but she feels a tiny bit better knowing that she has Daphne on her side.

Despite the fact that Y/N has been ignoring George all day, she finds herself heading to the Room of Requirement on Wednesday evening for a DA meeting. There are nervous butterflies in her stomach as she approaches but she doesn’t turn back. The DA is one of the only good things she’s had going on this year, and she’ll be damned if she lets George Weasley ruin that for her. Y/N had felt his eyes on her all day, and she hates to admit that it made her feel lightheaded.

She stops outside of the room of requirement to collect herself. Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear the thoughts of George from her mind. She’s semi-successful and she holds her head high as she throws the door open and steps inside.

“What the fuck?” she says, her eyes wandering around the room as the door shuts behind her. Y/N had certainly not been expecting the scene around her when she walked in. The room is dimly lit, with most of the lighting coming from candles that are floating around the room. There’s no furniture or practice dummies in sight, and the only other person in the room is George. He’s standing smack in the middle of the room watching her, a small smile on his face.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get you alone,” he says after a moment, reaching a hand out towards Y/N. “So, I had Hermione send an alert out to your Galleon and hoped that you would show up.”

Y/N walks further into the room cautiously, still unsure as to what exactly is going on. She stands a few feet away from George, resisting the urge to take his hand and fall into his chest. “Okay but why?.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the room again. “If this is some kind of elaborate set up and Fred is about to jump out of somewhere I swear to Merlin George I will kill you.”

George chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step towards Y/N. When she doesn’t flinch, he takes another one. “I promise you; Y/N. Fred is nowhere near here.” He bites his lip, looking at Y/N closely. “This is just me, desperately trying to fix whatever mess I got us into.” When she doesn’t say anything George continues, needing to fill the awkward silence of the room. “Tuesday night was incredible. Best night of my life, hands down. I thought, I thought things would be different with us, afterwards. But then you didn’t even look at me all day yesterday and last night in the library that stuff you said,” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I clearly did something wrong, but I’ve spent the past 24 hours thinking about everything I did, and I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she says quietly after she lets George’s words soak in. When George raises his eyebrow in confusion she sighs. “On Tuesday, after everything that happened,” she clears her throat, trying to will the blush on her cheeks away. “When we were leaving you didn’t say anything. You just kind of left. I thought that it was just a one-time thing, that it didn’t mean the same to you as it did to me,” she admits quietly.

Y/N lets her eyes wander around the room, needing to look anywhere except for George’s face. Y/N likes to keep walls up around herself. She makes exceptions for her friends and her parents, the people she loves, but she keeps them up around others. She doesn’t like to show weakness, she doesn’t want to give people the opportunity to hurt her. On Tuesday Y/N had let all of those walls crumble to the ground the second George had kissed her and it felt incredible. She felt like she could truly be herself around him, and as much as she wishes she could build those walls up around her again it’s too late. Y/N has no choice but to stand here in this room and let George in.

“And then I just got all in my head,” she continues a moment later, finally letting herself look at George. Her heart is fluttering, and she can’t help but notice how good he looks. “When I went to breakfast that morning and you were whispering with Fred it looked like you guys were plotting something, like a prank or something. And it made me think that Tuesday was just some stupid prank. That you were gonna use the things I said against me, to embarrass me or something,” she mutters.

“Darling,” George starts, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. He cups her cheek with one hand while the other reaches for one of hers. Y/N lets him grab her hand, and he intertwines their fingers. “I should have said something that night. There was so many things I wanted to say. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you. After that night we spent in detention I started to feel differently towards you. I knew you felt something too, but I wasn’t sure if you had realized it yet or not. So, when we left the passageway that night I wanted to give you time, to process everything.”

“I feel like such an idiot,” Y/N admits with a small smile. “I should have just said something instead of letting myself overthink it. I don’t like letting people in. But for some reason when I’m around you I can’t help but let you in. That night in detention I told you things not even Daphne knows. And then Tuesday, some of the things I said, I did,” she cuts herself off, a shiver running down her spine. “I’ve never let anyone see that side of me before and yet a few kisses from you had me blubbering like an idiot.”

“Blubbering like a wicked sexy idiot, darling,” George teases with a chuckle. He leans down and kisses her briefly. “I’m sorry, for not being clearer with my intentions.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a warm smile on her face. “And what are those intentions?”

Her eyes flutter closed as George kisses her deeply, both of his hands landing on her bum, giving it a tight squeeze. She moans into the kiss and lets George’s tongue in to explore her mouth. She wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him flush to her body. George pulls away suddenly, with Y/N trying to chase his mouth.

George chuckles when she pouts at him. “To answer your question, darling. First, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress over there like the dirty little girl you are.” George pauses, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s lips as a shiver runs down her spine. “And then I’m going to hold you close and whisper how much I love you into your ear.”

Y/N pulls George’s face down and presses their lips together hotly, kissing him desperately. She jumps up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his hands gripping her bum tightly. George carries her over to the bed that had appeared at some point in the past few minutes and throws her down on it. He loosens his tie and throws it off over his head and starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. Y/N watches his fingers move, practically drooling as his pale chest becomes more and more exposed to her.

“What are you waiting for? Permission,” George teases, his voice gravelly and his eyes dark. “Get naked,” he demands a moment later when she still doesn’t move. “Let me see all of you.”

George’s voice causes goosebumps to appear all over Y/N’s body and her core starts to ache. She can already feel herself getting wet, and the way George is looking at her as she rids herself of her clothes is only making it worse.

In a matter of moments, they’re both naked, and Y/N can feel her skin flushing under George’s gaze. He’s standing by the edge of the bed, slowly stroking himself as his eyes run over her naked body. Her body is aching for his touch, and she squirms under his intense gaze. “Please, George,” she moans, one of her hands coming up to toy with her breasts.

In an instant George is on top of her, kissing her messily as his hands touch every inch of skin they can. He bats away the hand that’s palming her breast so he can take over, his fingers starting to toy with her sensitive nipple. Y/N moans into George’s mouth, arching her back to press herself up into him harder. George practically growls at her actions and his other hand grabs her left thigh, forcing her legs apart.

“What do you want, darling?” he asks hotly, his lips trailing kisses down her neck. “My fingers?” He releases her thigh and starts to ghost his fingers up her it towards her folds. “My mouth?” He latches onto her neck and starts to lightly suck, causing a sinful whine to leave her lips.

Y/N tangles her fingers in George’s hair, tugging lightly as she squirms under his touch. “Both, please,” she begs, her breath coming out in hard pants. George’s fingers have finally reached her core, and his index finger has started to slowly circle her clit.

“Both, hm? What a needy little girl you’re being, Y/N,” he chides, his mouth continuing to trail kisses down her neck and over her chest. “But how can I say no? Not when you’re being such a good girl and asking so nicely.”

Y/N moans. George’s thumb has started to rub soft circles on her clit while his mouth wraps around her breast, sucking her nipple lightly. When George had called her a good girl at the beginning of term it had filled her with rage, but now as he slowly pushes his index finger inside of her tight walls she thinks she could come just from him calling her that alone.

“Fuck, George,” she whines, clenching around his finger as he curls it inside of her. She can feel his smirk as he kisses down her stomach. Her hips start to move off of the bed as he starts to slowly fuck her with his finger. His free hand flies to her hip and pins it down against the bed.

“Don’t be so impatient, darling. I’m going to take my time with you,” he scolds. He pulls his finger out slowly, and when he pushes it back in another has joined it, causing Y/N to gasp. “You sound so pretty, darling. Such pretty noises,” he praises.

George moves down the bed as his lips ghost over her hip so he can position himself better for what’s about to happen. He stops his movements on her pussy suddenly, causing Y/N to whine at the loss. He grabs her thighs and pushes them farther apart, so she’s spread open for him. “Such a pretty pussy you have, darling,” he groans, his eyes gazing over her dripping folds. Y/N tries to shut her legs, but George’s grip tightens on her thighs, keeping them open. “Don’t be shy, darling,” he teases.

Y/N is writhing in George’s grasp, one hand is toying with her nipples while the other grips the bed sheets. “George, please,” she begs again, needing him to touch her. George chuckles and suddenly his mouth is on her, lightly sucking on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she shouts, her hand leaving her breast to tangle in George’s hair.

George’s tongue starts to tease Y/N’s clit, wrapping around the bud slowly before pulling away and coming to lightly flick at it. He wraps his arm around her left thigh as she begins to move her hips, forcing her back down against the bed. “Gonna need to get some rope to tie you up, keep you nice and open for me,” he murmurs before putting his mouth back on her aching core.

“Holy fuck, George,” Y/N moans as he suddenly plunges two fingers into her heat. She can’t help the sounds that are coming out of her mouth as George pleasures her, images of George tying her up floating in her mind. George hums in laughter as his fingers curl and brush up against Y/N’s sweet spot, causing her to moan again.

Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, can feel the arousal building in her stomach. She wiggles her hips, trying to move away from George, and a squeal falls from her mouth when he pulls her even closer to his face. She grips his hair tightly and her toes curl as her orgasm approaches. Y/N yanks the sheets hard, her mouth opening and shutting unable to form a coherent thought due to George’s relentless pleasure.

“George please,” she sobs, her eyes screwing shut from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Her legs are shaking as George licks at her core, his fingers hitting the spot inside her that drives her crazy with every thrust. “I need you. I need you to, George, please,” she begs. She’s teetering on the edge of her release, just needing that one final push that only George can provide.

“Need me to what, darling?” he asks coyly as he pulls his face away from her pussy. His thumb takes over the assault on her clit his tongue had been doing before, starting to rub it in hard circles.

“Please,” she begs again, tears starting to leak out the side of her eyes. Y/N has never been this turned on in her life. Her body is trembling, her need for release overwhelming every part of her.

George presses a few kisses to the hot skin on the inside of her thigh to hide his smile. Y/N looks absolutely ethereal as she wriggles in his grasp, begging him to let her come. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow behind her, and her neck looks like it’s begging to be bit. Her whole body is flushed, and a sheen of sweat has appeared over her skin.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” he compliments as he situates himself on top of her again. He leans on his forearm and presses their lips together briefly. “Such a good girl, darling. Go on be a good girl, come for me.”

George kisses her again as she comes, groaning as her walls tighten around his fingers. Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, and George continues to slowly rub her clit as she comes down from her high. With one final curl of his fingers he removes them from her heat.

“You are a goddess,” he murmurs against her lips before he pulls away.

Y/N opens her eyes, smiling up at George. “And you’re a bloody fucking tease.”

George laughs and rolls onto his back, his arm winding around Y/N’s waist to pull her on top of him. Y/N giggles in delight, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. She lets her hand trail along his chest as they kiss, pausing as she reaches his groin. “Now see if I really was a good girl,” she mocks her fingertips dancing on the skin just above the base of his cock. “I’d touch you but.” She sighs and brings her hand back up to rest on George’s chest. “I’m feeling kinda naughty.”

“Bold tactic for a girl who was just begging me to let her come a few seconds ago,” George responds playfully, leaning up to press their lips together again. Y/N squeals when George pulls her fully on top of him so she’s straddling his waist. “I know I said I was gonna fuck you into the mattress but,” he says with a sigh when he breaks their kiss. “I don’t know if naughty girls deserve my cock.”

Despite the fact that she had just come a few seconds ago, Y/N’s pussy is aching again. She pouts down at George, rolling her hips. A satisfied smirk appears on her face when he groans. “What if I promise to be a good girl?”

George rolls them over so she’s underneath him. “I think I can make an exception.” Y/N laughs as George kisses her and winds her legs around his waist. George lines himself up with her entrance, breaking their kiss so he can look at her. “Ready?” When Y/N nods George pushes his hips forward and slowly enters Y/N.

“Oh my god, George,” she gasps as her hands come up to grip his shoulders. George doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against Y/N’s bum.

“Fucking hell you’re tight, Y/N,” he groans, burying his face in her neck. He lets out another groan as Y/N’s walls clench around him.

“Fuck me George, please,” she demands, squeezing his shoulders.

George chuckles into her neck and pulls out of her halfway before he slams back in, starting to slowly fuck her. “Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, pressing an open mouth kiss to her jaw.

For a few minutes all the noise that can be heard is Y/N and George’s combined moans as well as skin slapping on skin. George grabs Y/N’s leg and throws it over his shoulder so he can fuck into her deeper and the head of his cock is now rubbing her sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, scratching her nails down George’s back. “Feels so good, George. ‘M already close.”

“Fuck me too,” he growls, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You feel so fucking good, darling.” He presses a few kisses into the skin below her ear. “Go on, darling. Come for me when you’re ready. Didn’t even need to touch your little clit, did I? Such a good girl, coming from just my cock.”

George’s words tip Y/N over the edge and she throws her head back, George’s name falling from her mouth. Her walls tighten and twitch around George, causing him to reach his climax as well. He empties himself inside of Y/N, his hips slowly rolling into her to help them both come down from their highs.

Once George’s cock has stopped twitching and Y/N’s breathing starts to slow down, George carefully pulls out of her and collapses on the bed next to her. George opens up his arm and Y/N rolls into his side, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She peppers soft kisses to the sweaty skin as George starts to rub her back.

“It’s not fair, you know,” George says as Y/N trails a few kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

Y/N pecks his lips softly. “What’s not fair?” she asks with a chuckle.

George pouts at her and she kisses him briefly again. “Every time we get intimate you get to come twice, and I only get to come once. That’s totally not fair.”

Y/N laughs and buries her face in George’s neck again. “Well maybe if you were a good boy I’d let you come more than once,” she teases.

George’s fingers dig into Y/N’s side as he holds her in place, tickling her mercilessly. Y/N shrieks with laughter, desperately trying to wiggle away from George’s grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. George tickles her for another moment before he stops, one of his hands resting on the small of Y/N’s back and the other grabs hers.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N looks up at him and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

The next morning as Y/N drags George over to the Slytherin table for breakfast she can hear Ginny shouting at Ron.

“I told you, you absolute numpty! You owe me a Galleon!”

#George weasley #george weasley smut #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fic #george weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #gw #golden

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Text

~Pivitol~

Summary: Things aren’t going so good...

Chapter: 17

Warnings: None

“Your phone is seriously bugging out. It buzzed so much you would think there was a fly stuck between the case. Is it your boyfriend?” Yuko reached over curiously and you smacked her hand away before grabbing your phone and hiding it in your pocket. “Um yes, and I’m not letting you step into the conversation this time either.” You huffed while continuing to work at your desk. Yuko sighed and rolled her eyes as she let her fingers fall back into line of the keyboard, meticulously tapping away at her work. “Chill, I wasn’t gonna pick it up and text him for you again. But anyway, I’m your friend right? Aren’t you gonna let me know what’s up? You seem off today.”

You zoned out and debated whether or not to spill your guts to her upon this last hour before clocking out. It had been a week since you last saw Kai due to busying work schedule, and things were feeling a bit different lately. He was always texting or calling, trying to come over and hang out. It would’ve been fine but you needed to keep him away at the sake of focusing on your work and the important report due. Some big people were coming to the branch soon and everyone had to be on their toes or else there would be termination. Personally you needed this job to pay rent...or at least you needed it to feel accomplished for a bit. But that was just leading you into the thought of the issue at hand:

Kai was fully intent into getting you to move in with him.

“Yuko is it...I mean can you maybe...” You looked at the clock and sighed in relief. 5 minutes remaining. “Yuko can you take a 15? I’m about to clock out for today and I could use your company in the breakroom real quick.” That was code word for ‘please take a minute and I’ll explain it to you’. She nodded eagerly. Within the next 10 minutes you two were at the table munching on grapes and little fruit slices. “So the thing lately is that I’ve been feeling different with Kai. I mean, I love him and all but he’s been up my ass a little bit lately. My main concern isn’t really that though. I mean I know he’s been more of a loner until I came around so of course he’s gonna want to hang out often. My biggest concern is that he wants me to drop everything and move in with him. He wants to pay all my bills etc. yknow? He even told me that if I didn’t want to quit this job when I moved in with him that he’d literally buy me a car so I could travel to work and back.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” She smacked the table with excitement. You shushed her and looked around to make sure no one was coming in on the conversation. “Sorry but what the hell??? Y/N that’s like a dream come true right?! You don’t have to work, but even if you did then he would get you a new car AND you can live with him??? He’s going to spoil you!” While her eyes sparkled with excitement and the will to live vicariously through you, your eyes were dulled with a bit of annoyance and exasperation. “It’s not a dream world like you would think. Some of us would like to have time to function as an adult with ourselves without leaning on someone else for a while. I literally haven’t even been working here that long. And having someone buy me an entire car?! I could never think to return that kind of generosity. I couldn't afford to even if I tried and worked my whole life. I just wish he would give a little time to think about this mess and I wish he’d consider my feelings yknow? If I had some time maybe it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but lately I’ve been feeling like I’m backed into a corner. I mean, look at these text messages from earlier!” You reached into your pocket and pulled your phone out, sliding it on the table for Yuko to get.

“Woooowwww...”

“Yeah, a bit much right?”

“No no not that! I mean wow, a Mercedes? Figure you can take one for the team and give it to me instead?” You reached to take your phone and bonk her on the head a bit. “Cut it out, this isn’t time to joke!” You groaned and gripped the sides of your head. Yuko sighed and rubbed the top of her head before moving her chair to sit next to you and hug you. “Do you want my honest opinion even if it hurts? Or do you want me to sugar coat it?” She asked you as she nestled into you tightly. You sighed and hugged here back, uttering your answer for the honest opinion. “I don’t think you’re worried about taking things to fast with him are you? I think you’re content and comfortable with him. I also think you really love him and care for him. I really don’t think the timing of your relationship matters all that much because speed is different for a lot of people in this world and we don't all go by one set time limit for everything. I think that you’re just too prideful sometimes. Maybe you come from an environment where you had to depend on someone for so long that now you cling to the thought of singularity and independence. I think that if you were ever in trouble that you wouldn’t think to ask for help at all because you’d want to get out of things yourself even if you drag yourself through the mud to do it. I think even when provided with a means to keep working here that you still don’t move in with him because you might be worried about leaning on him and the fear of him possibly holding his acts of kindness over your head to manipulate you later on scares you. Because maybe this happened before in your life with someone that wasn’t so kind? But at the end of the day Y/N you need to trust him and fall back on him a little bit. You’re not losing your independence or your sense of self just by moving into a house with your boyfriend yknow? And when someone offers you an entire car just to get you by their side everyday? That means he really must love you. He wants this moving in thing so bad that he’s willing to get you whatever you need to do it. Maybe just think a little bit harder on it and get him an answer okay?” Yuko pulled out of the hug and smiled gently at you before peeking down at her watch. “Oh shit! I’m like 12 minutes over for my break, gotta jet! Text me later and let me know if things get any better!” Just like a jet of lightning she was out of the breakroom and back at her desk, furiously typing away and trying to catch up to herself. You laughed lightly and put your phone away as you headed out of the office and back home.

When you got off the elevator to your floor, you gasped at Chisaki standing right by your front door. “Oh Angel! You’re a bit late today. I took the liberty of bringing in your mail from your box downstairs by the way. Oh here, let me get this bag for you. Oh yeah did you think about the thing we talked about the other day? Can you get back to me with an answer now? I was looking into some good moving services the other day when I figure why not just have Rappa and Katsukame come lug the heavier stuff. We can move your bed to guest room or we can sell it if you want to. Oh and the extra Tv we can move to the-”

“Oh my God Kai please STOP. I’m literally begging you to stop this! You’re literally all down my throat with this shit. You’ve made plan after plan and I never gave you a yes for any of this just yet! I asked you for time and you’ve given me barely ANY to get my head in the right space for all of this! Why are you pushing me so damn fast like this?! You’re making plans to sell my stuff now too???”

“Y/N...I just thought-”

“YOU CAN TAKE A MOMENT TO CONSIDER MY FEELINGS PLEASE!??? What if I say no huh? What if I just never move in with you then what??? Will I be stuck for the rest of this relationship listening to you continue to make plans for me and beg me over and over and over until I say yes to whatever the hell it is that you want me to say yes to?”

“Y/N...”

“Kai please, I’m begging you to just give me some space.”

“...Understood...” He gently placed your mail on the table and headed out the door swiftly. You collapsed on the couch and sighed loudly, rubbing your temples and trying to navigate the throbbing of the oncoming headache. Worst of all, the overwhelming feeling of guilt was slowing trickling down and filling you up until you felt absolutely awful for everything you just dumped on him. You sighed and got up to trudge off to the shower where you could think and wash your worries away. Meanwhile, Kai wasn’t doing very good himself. After leaving your apartment in a hurry he was left in a state of confusion, sadness, and numbness wondering where exactly he went wrong. “Back so soon my boy? That was a quick trip! Is my beloved in-law out there with you? I assume you must’ve picked her/him/them up to come here instead yes?” Kai simply stared at Pops with annoyance before huffing and heading downstairs to his office. “Without a single word eh?” Pops sighed to himself and slowly stood up. “I suppose I had better go speak to him then.” The old man made his way belowground and went straight to Kai’s most likely location: his office. He knocked twice and listened at the door.

“Whoever it is I suggest you leave before cleanup crew has to mop your insolent body from the concrete.” Pops held in his chuckle and shook his head as he entered the office. “Still haven’t changed all these years eh? You know you were quite like this as a child too. When you used to get upset you would have a very mean way about you, but you never scared me kid. You don’t scare me now either. So now tell me what’s got you so upset today? Lovers spat perhaps?” Kai immediately snapped his head up and stared at Pops. “How the hell did you know that.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday boy. I was married with a kid once. I know more about this stuff than you think. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you must’ve caused this. Judging by your prickly personality, what did you do.”

“Victim blaming when I’m your own son? You’re a very cold man you know.” Kai joked dryly and Pops smiled. “If you must know, I don’t know what the hell happened. I was just visiting Y/N since we hadn’t been with each other for a few days. I can’t begin to imagine what caused the argume-” Kai paused and thought about the words pouring from your lips. Aside from all the bitterness he felt from being chewed out for the first time he actually heard what you said and pieced it altogether. “I suppose I may be laying a bit much on Y/N right now. I just crave her/his/their presence more often and every hour not spent with my Angel is driving me insane. I’m damn near on the verge of wanting to kidnap but then I remember how that’s shunned on by society.” Pops laughed and shook his head. Yes the boy hadn’t changed much at all, even throughout the years. “I want Y/N to move in with me so much so that I’ve gone about finalizing things without permission. Which by the way reminds me, there’s going to be a new car in the driveway in another day or two. Don’t panic, I bought it for Y/N as a gift. I used the money from those drug dealings I was doing for that week. And BEFORE you lay into me about it, I shut it down and won’t be interacting with it any more in the future.”

“You say that and you had better run through it for real this time young man, or it’ll be you moving out of this house instead of Y/N moving in. Do you hear me?” Pops threatened with a scowl and Kai rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Now beside all that, I would be over the moon if Y/N were to move in with us! However, you have to be gentle and take your time with these things. You always tend to take things far past their limits and I can understand that Y/N must be feeling drowned in everything you’re bringing forward. Take a moment, give some time, and I guarantee everything will be just fine between the two of you.” Pops stood up and placed a gentle hand on Kai’s head as he passed to leave out of the office. Once left alone, the young head stared at your contact in the phone debating on whether or not he would call you. He ultimately decided on giving it time to air out before getting in contact with you again. It was the hardest thing he would do, but he wanted to prove to himself he could take things slow. At least slow enough to let you calm down and make your choice.

Still...the silence was killing him.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kai chisaki x reader #kai chisaki #overhaul #bnha overhaul #Pivotal #pivitol #fanfiction #fanfic

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wyofabdoms · 4 years

Text

Undercover I Do - Chapter 3

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, soft Javi, brief mention of domestic Javi, mentions of some smexy stuff, unrequited feels, lots of medical things that are probably wrong but I did a five minute internet search so we’re gonna call it good, okay?

Word Count: 1982

Notes: You're awake....but what do you remember?

Read on Ao3

Every inch of your body felt like it had been smashed with a heavy hammer. The soreness seemed to echo and reverberate up and down, through your wrists, through your calves, along your hips, up your back. Everything was black and you sluggishly realized it was because your eyes were closed. Based on the way your body was feeling, though, you didn’t have much desire to open your eyes.

You did anyway, feeling like Sisyphus hauling his boulder up a hill at the effort it took to simply lift your eyelids. Blurry daylight streamed through the vinyl shades of a window. A news program was playing on a muted television in the corner. The parts of the room you could see were stark and sparse: clearly a hospital room. You tried turning your head to survey the rest of the room and groaned, a shrieking thumping in your head threatening to send you right back into the blackness of unconsciousness you had just come from. You heard rustling coming from somewhere on your other side, out of your vision; then a wizened older woman with chin length grey hair stepped into your line of sight. She looked at you earnestly and brushed a smooth, dry palm softly across the top of your head, pushing your hair back and murmuring your name.

You struggled to place this woman’s face….your mother? No, that wasn’t right. You got a maternal feeling from her, certainly, but this woman wasn’t your mother...so who was she? Your brain grasped to remember.

“It’s all right,” the woman spoke and her voice was gentle but commanding, calm, steady with a flint of authority. “You’re safe. You’ve been unconscious for a while and had a nasty head injury. Take it slow...don’t push yourself too hard.” As she spoke, she pressed a recessed button next to you on the hospital bed, calling for a nurse and half asking, half ordering said nurse to get the doctor down here to check on you immediately. This woman was clearly used to having people do what she said. She sat next to you, a comforting hand resting on your forearm.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over.” Your voice croaked and something clicked in your mind. You flicked your eyes back to the woman. “I’m in Columbia, right?” The woman nodded slowly, her eyes searching your face. “Bogota?” Another confirmation. You carefully turned your head and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember, feeling your mind spinning like tires in mud trying to get traction as you tried to remember what had landed you in this hospital bed. A memory of this woman’s face rose in front of you, sitting behind a large desk in an office, poring over maps and files and directing yourself and others. “Agent Dixon.” You said, flashing your eyes back to her. Her face appeared years younger as a smile spread on her lips and you made your own attempt at a small smile as memories of your mentor seeped into your mind, like water finding cracks in a sidewalk.

The doctor arrived then and proceeded to examine you, asking you questions about what you did and didn’t remember: names, dates, presidents. Already confirming that you were in Columbia, you also remembered you work as a DEA agent, having been stationed here for close to two years now. You did most of the talking while the doctor and Dixon merely asked you questions, elaborating on how you had ended up in the hospital: the DEA had been tracking a drug lord with lofty and insidious aspirations named Rafel Ortiz, an operation to capture him and his network that hadn’t gone as planned, you had been injured during the operation, though after a meaningful shared look across your hospital bed, neither Dixon nor the doctor gave any details as to said operation, nor how you had sustained your injuries. As the doctor finished up, you lifted your hand to brush a stray piece of hair that was tickling your face beneath the bandage on your head. Your eyes caught a glint of something on your finger. You stopped, remembering through a fog: photographs with you in them, a warm grip on your hand, a gentle kiss on your forehead, a panic-stricken voice filled with concern calling for you to wake up, then the same husky, low voice whispering to you to sleep well, calling you “princess”. Your eyes turned with concern from the ring on your finger to the doctor and Dixon.

“Where is he? Is he ok?” Another shared glance between the two across your bed. Your heart sank. Dixon spoke quietly after a moment.

“Where is who?”

“I don’t remember his name. The man in the pictures...he was with me in the ambulance. Where’s my husband?”

****

Javier had managed to sleep, though certainly not well. He knew he looked like shit as he stalked through the halls of the hospital. He’d managed to make himself look slightly less of a mess than yesterday after a shower and change of clothes this morning, but he didn’t feel much better. Beneath his pounding head and screaming muscles, a bubbling of worry simmered and all he wanted was to get back to the hospital and wait for his partner to open her eyes, to give him a wry smile and shoot him some teasing barb about how much worse for wear he looked than she did.

They’d almost pulled it off, the two of them. He had felt a little ridiculous during the pre-op: having his finger measured for a ring that fit properly, posing with his partner for “engagement photos” in the small garden courtyard of the DEA office building, then changing into formal wear and recreating what would hopefully look like a sweet moment from a wedding ceremony, but was really a job of play acting in front of a blank wall in a conference room. They’d set up in the large house on the outskirts of the city, posing as a freshly arrived expat couple, newly married and looking to supplement his international banking career by padding it with up and coming connections in the cocaine trade. They’d “been married” for a little over two weeks, operating normally as agents and partners when on their own, but putting on a convincing performance as a newlywed couple when entertaining or meeting with Ortiz or any of his men.

Javier couldn’t lie to himself. He had always been attracted to his partner. She was smart, feisty, independent, strong-willed, and beautiful...oh so beautiful. When they had first started working together he had pursued her relentlessly for a grand total of three days before she had knocked him across the face and nearly twisted his hand off when he had gotten grabby. In no uncertain terms, she had made it crystal clear that no, she was not interested in sleeping with him, she had no desire to be a notch on anyone’s bedpost (much less his), that he was being an absolute pig for assuming that she was and that if he ever tried to grab her ass or any part of her again without permission she would shoot him in the dick.

That had been well on two years ago and thinking back, it was probably in that very moment when she had growled at him and he had stared up at her from where she had landed him on the bar floor, that he had started to fall for his partner. After that night, he had never made another attempt to pursue her...at least not physically. There had been times, over one too many drinks at a bar or over shitty take out or during a late night glance through the smoky haze from the cigarettes they would chain smoke, that he had seen something in her eyes. Something that had made him pause and wonder if things had perhaps changed...if maybe the needle had moved for her, if she thought differently now. They had been through so much together, had grown so close. But he had never been quite brave enough to ask. And she had so often made her opinion abundantly clear on considering him merely her partner; teasing him about being able to outrun him in a foot chase, scowling in distaste whenever his amorous methods with his informants came up, screaming at him at least twice a week for over some disagreement or another.

He had liked being “married” to her, though. For just a little while, he had gotten a taste of what domesticity might be like for Javier Peña: jaded DEA agent. He had liked the excuse to hold her hand at dinner in a restaurant or place his hand on the small of her back while walking...all of the moments when he could give her little touches: a brush of her cheek with the back of his hand, a kiss to her temple.

Then there had been the moments that stirred something deeper than his interest in domesticity. When she had sat on his lap after dinner and nibbled on his ear while he talked business with Ortiz. When they had attended a party the drug lord had hosted and Javi had found his hands exploring the smooth planes of her body, her fingers knotted in his hair, pressing the occasional kiss to the other’s lips as they danced recklessly until the early morning hours. He had felt like it had been real, moments like those. As though the pretense of their undercover personas gave permission for their unspoken craving for each other to float to the surface and be reality, even if just for a little while. Kisses for the benefit of their marks had seemed to linger just a few moments longer than necessary, her lips had discovered the spot on his neck below his ear that drove him crazy and seemed to just naturally end up there whenever they had to “act” married.

Then there had been that last night before everything had fallen apart: the two of them pressed together for a moment in panic, trying to keep themselves hidden from the suspicious gaze of Ortiz’s men...then suddenly pressed together like lovers, hands under clothes, groping and grappling for purchase on each others’ skin wherever they could find it, the smell of the plumeria trees wafting over them. Javi knew it had only been to cover the fact that they had been snooping somewhere they shouldn’t have been, but he couldn’t shake the way that moment had made him feel: as though suddenly every barrier and wall that separated he and his partner had crashed and crumbled between them. If they hadn’t been discovered as DEA later that evening Javi wondered what might have happened when they had returned to “their” house….

No. He couldn’t let himself dwell on those kinds of “what ifs” right now. He shook himself as he rounded the corner and spotted Dixon and the doctor standing outside your hospital door, speaking intently. As he approached, Dixon glanced at him and both of them abruptly stopped talking.

“Peña, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the office? I’m sure you have a report to fill out...” Javi shot her an annoyed look.

“I just wanted to stop by on my way, see how she’s doing….” He trailed off, looking back and forth between Dixon and the doctor, waiting for one or both of them to give him an update. When none came, he irritatedly asked, “Well?….How’s she doing?” Worry tugged at him as he saw the look that passed between them.

“Agent Peña…” Dixon said slowly. She gestured to one of the crappy plastic chairs along the wall outside the rooms. “Have a seat. We need to talk.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javi #javier pena x female reader #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #undercover marriage

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whump-town · 4 years

Note

I need hotch whump. Dad rossi being a total dad and the team helping hotch through his deep seated emotional trauma. Just the team helping hotch be emotionally open and maybe some crying and him getting hugs n shit?? And if you can, at least 3k words cuz hes sad and needs to use his words

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

(Fair warning, I feel like I couldn’t get Hotch’s script right. He has a unique way that he speaks and I just feel like I missed that. I hope I didn’t drop the ball but I’ve been working on this non-stop so I’ve kinda passed a point in my ability to tell. Bonus, this fits really well for a fix-it for this post that I made that hurt everyone. You can find that post here)

Word count: 5,452

He can feel himself falling apart. His thoughts are more than often filled with deterioration and self-deprecating harm. He knows it’s getting worse but he excuses it. If he can rationalize his thoughts, condone them, and recognize them then there’s no need to ask for help.

Especially, when he doesn’t deserve it.

The breath is kicked from his lungs as he opens the file in front of him. He’d gotten the call from the Dallas police department that morning and fielded the consult to himself. Normally, this would be the type of case JJ would handle but as soon as he heard the victims were blonde’s in their thirties he couldn’t let the case go to her. Except, a very important factor had been left out.

They were all mothers.

He finds himself looking down at half a dozen women who all look too much like Haley.

Panic bubbles in his chest and a trembling hand pushes the case away. It’s not enough. He stands to his feet, leaning heavily on his desk to stop his knees from caving from beneath him. He’s paper left too long in the sun, warping. His print is no longer legible. His glue peeling away.

On the floor of his office, a step away from his desk, he falls to his knees. His breath is caught in his throat-- his tie an ever-tightening noose that leaves his mouth dry and his voice stuck. Logically, he can recognize his own symptoms. It’s a panic attack. Triggered because he’s never worked through his feelings. Never got over Haley. His incompetence.

His failure.

His brain can recognize that the pain in his chest shouldn’t kill him. His mind still draws the parallel to his own father. A chronic alcoholic who died in his office of a heart attack. An abuser. An asshole.

What was that the team had said about him?

JJ had called him a bully.

Reid said he was a narcissist.

The hurt in Emily’s eyes as she deduced he doesn’t trust women as much as men.

Morgan said he’s a drill sergeant.

So… maybe Hotch didn’t hit Jack. He’s never laid a hand on his son so he’s different from his father in that sole regard. He’s not a good father though. He’s not a good boss.

His team must loathe him.

Which means he’s not all that different from his father.

What does that leave? What does that make him besides a suit and tie? A terrified, sweat-soaked coward on an office floor.

And there’s no wonder that he’s never made the time to work through his problems. Who is to talk to? Haley had known of his father. Enough to leave that subject alone. Even when he sat bolt upright in their bed, lost to his youth spent outrunning the hands of his father. She’d comforted him enough to get him back to sleep, holding him to her chest but never inquiring. Never pushing.

The others have their own problems. Dave is a father without a son. Reid has a mother who’s taken care of for the better part of his whole life. Prentiss wants a child, a family so badly but she continues to have that torn from her grasp. JJ feels like she’s failed, Henry. Garcia is plagued by the images she sees daily. Morgan feels torn between his loyalty to this team and doing better for himself.

So when should he fit in that time for himself? When does he silence them to talk about himself?

His phone vibrates on his desk. It’s a low, hollow sound but it snaps him to attention. The kind of sound that he could not ignore any more than a cry of pain from Jack. A case, more than likely. Maybe even an email from the Director or Strauss requesting his presence.

His knees cave beneath him, a frustrated grunt leaving his mouth. He takes his fist and beats it into the carpet, hoping the pain that spikes up his arm will ground him. The world spins but he manages to stagger to his feet. Even if that means nearly losing his footing as the world dips suddenly. Curling that arm, pulling it protectively to his core, he manages to cross the room.

Except, there is no call to duty.

He’s greeted by a picture and an unknown number.

It’s a newborn baby in the lap of someone but the important detail is the hospital bracelet on picture taker’s wrist and the distinct newness of the baby. The sight invokes a pang in his chest, reminding him of when Jack was that small. A youth blind to injustice and death. Before Hotch had gone and messed it all up.

A moment later, his phone goes off again. A single line of text but he knows immediately what it means.

“Learning how to smile again... I hope you are too.”

Elle.

He's not sure if he’s meant to respond so he doesn’t. It does spark a certain flame in his lungs-- he wouldn’t call it a breath of life but for once the inhale his raged lungs pull in doesn’t hurt. He falls into his desk chair, cradling his phone in his hand.

“You know,” JJ’s voice breaks through the silence of his office. She steps into the room with that blatant disregard that most of the team has. A mutual understanding that he’s given them-- as long as his door isn’t shut, they’re free to come in.

As far as he sees, that openness is well understood by JJ, Morgan, and Garcia. He suspects their understanding comes from a creative source. A kind that Prentiss and Reid have taken their time in understanding.

He sees the way the two of them hesitate before knocking and announcing themselves. For what, he might ask if he did not already know the answer. The answer is on the tip of his tongue each morning as he shaves his face. It’s his last thought as he drifts off.

You don’t trust women as much as men.

“You’ve ruined me for all future employers.” JJ continues. Unaware of the fact that her audience is a bit lost.

I choose Aaron Hotchner. He’s a classic narcissist. He thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team.

JJ moves closer, her arms falling from their defensive place across her chest. She smiles, her eyes dancing between his. There’s a flash there, of what she’s uncertain but as soon as it’s there it’s gone. She sees the bone-tired, ragged look of his large frame and she wonders when the last time he got a good night’s sleep was.

“You--” Hotch’s eyebrow’s knit together as he stutters to put together what she’s said. “I--I ruined you?” His brain is still reeling from the panic attack. He’s too exhausted to put together whatever trivial meaning her words are meant to have.

JJ chuckles lightly, perhaps she should have opened that better. “You didn’t ruin me, literally,” she explains with a smile. Honest, she loves him like a brother but he can be as thick as mud sometimes. For someone who’s entire job revolves around understanding people, Hotch often misses the point.

Not that she minds explaining that to him.

“I mean,” she says, sitting herself down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She pulls her legs underneath herself, not afraid to take the time to get comfortable. “You’re too kind. You give so much to this team that if you ever leave I’m not sure how any of us will function without you.”

He blanches. This seems out of left field to him.

She smiles at his reaction, reaching across his desk to squeeze his hand. “Hotch,” she reminds him softly, “yesterday you brought me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You made it for me because you knew I hadn’t taken a break.”

He can hardly understand how making someone a peanut butter and jelly sandwich constitutes a pat on the back. He does it all the time for Jack. When he was making JJ one yesterday he’d ended up making one for Reid and Prentiss as well. The two of them poking and badgering him until he’d relented.

“Bosses don’t do that,” JJ assures him. “Not normal ones anyway.” Sensing that he’s not really putting this together, she rises from her chair. Stepping into his personal space she can see just how awful he looks. With all the tenderness she can manage, she presses a kiss to his cheek. Encircling his shoulders in her arms, she realizes that he’s trembling. “I love and appreciate you and I’m just… None of them tell you how much you mean to us. I just want to make sure you remember that.”

It takes him a moment but he hugs her back. Where his body is stiff with tension, she’s warm and soft. He breaks for just a moment, allowing her words to warm his chest before resigning himself back to his darkness. To his self-hatred.

JJ gives his back a quick rub before pulling away. “You need to take a nap,” she informs him. “You look like shit.”

He smiles, mustering up all his energy into convincing her that he’s not on the knife’s edge of falling over into darkness. “I’m fine,” he assures her. Besides, he motions to the file on his desk. “I’ll get some coffee and finish this consult. Then I’ll go home.”

She looks at the file in question and decides to save him the trouble. She picks it up despite his anxiety-filled voice calling her name out. What she finds shocks her but not for the reason he’d thought. These women do look like her but their resemblance to Haley is… “Oh, Hotch…”

He can’t look at her. “They…” he clears his throat. “I didn’t want you to see it because I knew they were blonde and that kind of stuff really gets to you but--” He’s said too much. He’s admitting that he knows they look like Hailey. Maybe even that it bothered him as much as it’s bothering her.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” JJ whispers, her emotions getting the best of her. Of course, he looks like shit. He’d done something kind to spare her and ended up looking at dead mutilated women who look too much like Haley. “You’re too kind for your own good.” She tucks the file to her chest, where she knows he won’t make a quick grab for it.

“JJ…”

She shakes her head. “Go home. Go get coffee. Take a nap. I don’t care what you do but you are not getting this file back because I promise that whatever seeing these women will do to me is going to be less damaging than seeing them is to you.” She doesn’t spare him a second more before leaving his office. Leaving him to do what he pleases just not allowing that file to be one of them.

She turns in the doorway to his office, offering him a smile. “By the looks of you, I’d recommend taking that nap.”

He doesn’t but her words stick with him for days.

I love and appreciate you. It’s most unlike the voice in his head reminding him that he’s a bully. A narcissist.

When he goes to bed, arms wrapped around his chest and tears threatening to spill down his face… he thinks about those four simple words. His cheek stings where she’d kissed him and for a moment his chest burns again with an unfamiliar light.

He remembers these words over and over.

He starts to believe them but that doesn’t mean he changes.

Then a case sends him home. His hometown is hardly an hour away from Quantico. Standing in front of the team, his hands buried in his pockets to hide the way they tremble, he tells them they won’t need the jet or the GPS. He knows where they’re going.

He knows it too well.

Prentiss doesn’t start second-guessing her boss until he pulls off the main road. Reid will testify, he second-guessed Hotch the minute the man told them he didn’t need a map and turned the GPS off. Neither says anything but Hotch is still aware of the weight of their silence. He doesn’t feel comfortable offering them the reassurance that he knows where he’s going so he chooses to say nothing. The whole car opts to not comment on how it is that he knows where he’s going.

“Detective Carter!” Garcia is the first person out of the second car jammed packed with the other members of the team.

In the second car, there was a lot of aired criticism. Ninety-eight percent of which came from Morgan but upon pulling into the station, thirty minutes before the GPS estimated arrival time, he can’t complain. It does leave him curious. It’s not often they drive to crime scenes from Quantico but they never stray from the GPS.

“I’m Penelope,” she explains to the older man. It’s clear the detective is taken aback by the sight of Garcia but the old man just smiles and takes her hand. Kindly he smiles and Garcia only beams that much more. “These are the agents I told you about.” She turns back to the others, lined up like a kindergarten class rather than a ragtag group of highly trained professionals. “JJ, Dr. Reid, SSAs Prentiss, Rossi, Morgan, and our prestigious and very handsome leader-”

“Aaron?”

Prentiss had noticed Hotch’s hesitation the moment he put the car in park. He masterfully hid anything that might have given her a why but she’d still seen his stress become gradually more apartment as he got closer to the precinct.

“Jesus,” the detective shakes his head. He doesn’t give Hotch the opportunity to step away or even get a word out. The mood shifts as Hotch can’t hide the way he flinches as the man pulls him into a hug. “You were fifty pounds soaking wet the last time I saw you,” the detective admits.

Hotch can’t look at the detective and he can’t look at his team.

Mercifully, Prentiss calls out to the older man. “I hate to push here,” she lies, “I would like to get working as soon as possible. I’m not sure how many more dead girls I can stand to see.” There are a few mumbled responses from the team, all agreeing with Prentiss.

Hotch doesn’t notice. He stands in the spot the detective left him in. Eyes on the gravel, he’s struggling but he pushes it down. He has a job and the job has always come before physical comfort.

He hangs his head and he gets through the day knowing that he’ll be allotted his personal time in a hotel room soon enough. He can break down there.

And he does.

And then he has a nightmare that wakes up the entire team.

He’s shaking so badly when he finally opens his door that he can’t even play it off. They know.

“Let it out son,” Rossi whispers, holding Hotch tight to his chest. “It’s alright, it’s okay.” He rubs his hand down Hotch’s back. Something in his chest locking tight and stiff at the way Hotch melts, unable to even stand. Dave has always known, in one way or another, that Hotch’s childhood was a litany of things done wrong.

He’d seen the kid’s back, the crisscrossing pattern he’d only ever seen on dead people. Scars. Someone had hit Hotch so hard as a child to leave marks on his body into adulthood. If Dave had to guess, he’d say a belt. Given Hotch’s soft accent and tendencies, Dave knows he’d probably be right. Belts are loved by Southerners.

Beat the sin out of your children.

See if they ever come home.

Rossi looks at Hotch, the man struggling to pull himself back together. Sometimes they do come home and that’s worse.

“This place,” Hotch whispers, eyes falling to the carpet. “This town is…” His eyes move to the window on the adjacent wall. If the sun were up, he would be able to see the house he spent his youth in. The drive-way where his father bounced his head off the gravel for dropping a can of green beans. The window by the main door that his father broke smacking his mother against it. “It’s an awful place and I-- I will be glad when we’re able to leave it.”

Reid, of all people, is the first person to offer a condolence, a way out. He clears his throat, anxiously moving from foot to foot. “You could go back home,” he offers. “It’s not a long drive, you would be back with Jack before the sun even comes up.” Seeing that his idea isn’t being torn down but rather the others seem to agree this is actually a perfectly good solution, he continues. “You could work from the office with Garcia. We’ve all done it. I certainly wouldn’t think differently of you if you went home.”

Reid sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, stepping forward and sitting on the edge of Hotch’s bed. “This town gives me the heebie-jeebies, anyway.” His small shiver lightens something in Hotch’s chest because not even Hotch can twist the genius’s actions. Reid is being sincere and Hotch hasn’t messed up. They don’t hate him. They don’t think he’s weak.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Dave speaks up, shaking his head. “I feel it creeping into my bones.”

There seems to be a unanimous decision made in that immediate moment that no one’s going to push him. They’re not frustrated about being woken up in the middle of the night by his terrified screams. No one is going to force him to tell them about the detective.

They solve the case and rescue the last girl from the clutches of their UNSUB. This time, Detective Carter does his job. He doesn’t send an obviously beaten and abused boy back home to his father.

They save the girl the way no one ever saved Hotch but he doesn’t consider himself irreparable anymore.

He closes his eyes and remembers what it felt like when Dave held him.

Son.

I love and appreciate you.

I wouldn’t think differently of you.

He starts to feel loved and he’s so broken-- there’s something in his mind that just equates their affection for a need for him to be better-- he decides he has to prove he’s worth it.

JJ has formed a habit of squeezing his elbow when she passes him.

Rossi pulls him into one-armed hugs.

Reid brings him a coffee and smiles shyly when they pass one another in the halls.

But he can’t do anything right.

“Prentiss!”

He doesn’t clear the second room properly as they raid a house and all he can do is put himself between her and the danger. There’s only a split second to think about it. She’s a head shorter than him. So the shot that would take her head off hits him center mass.

There’s a sickening crack that rings through the room as he hits the wall behind them. His head bouncing off the wall. He doesn’t hear her cry his name out.

Prentiss’s hands shake but her own shot hits its mark. The UNSUB falls limply to the ground just as Hotch had. Despite every fiber of her wanting to double back and make sure Hotch isn’t dead, she moves forward. She can see her bullet embedded in the opposing wall. The hole in the UNSUB’s head is visible proof but she can’t walk away from him until she finds no pulse and moves his gun away.

“Agent down,” she calls shakily. Her knees almost give out from beneath her when she turns to see him.

All six feet of her boss is crumpled into a limp pile. His neck is bent, chin resting against his sternum. She can’t tell if he’s even breathing, the vest strapped to his chest swallows any movement that might or might not be there. “Hotch?” She calls, hoping that he'll stir. That he’ll make a noise or something.

She sees blood.

“Hotch is down,” she cries over the radio. “Hotch is down and we need medics.” She pulls at his tie, swallowing down her own need to cry. To sob as her friend’s blood covers her skin. “It’s a--a-” she pulls the tie around his neck free and the blood starts to flow twice as fast. “Fuck,” she places her hand over the wound. Her hot tears stinging her eyes. “It’s a neck wound.”

A death sentence.

She can feel his pulse against her palm. Each beat a little fainter than the last.

“Don’t you die,” she rasps. Her emotions are bubbling to the surface as her panic and adrenaline get worse. “Come on you stubborn bastard,” but her insults are laced with worry. “Hotch,” she pats his pale cheek. Attempting and failing to rouse him. On his cheek, her hand is left perfectly preserved by his crimson blood.

“Agent,” the medics come in. Someone puts a hand on her shoulder but she can’t pull away. She can’t let him bleed out. “Agent we’ve got it.”

I love and appreciate you.

Those words are the last thing Hotch thinks before his head hits the wall. He just has to hope she meant it.

“Hey.”

She has to wait days to wring him out. To give him a proper piece of her mind. They are supposed to be passed this. They did pass this a long time ago. Time and time again he’s proven that he does trust her. After Foyet, they’d become the semblance of friends. She considers him family.

Instead of offering him the immediate bitchfest he’s more than deserved, she offers him a passing-- “Hey, yourself.” Seeing him awake settles her but she has to be mad with him. She is mad with him. Even if she wants to hug him. He is her friend and she values him. It hurts to see him in pain.

After a moment, she looks up from the book she’s reading. Paying him just enough attention that she notices how uneasy he is. It makes her question her chosen silent treatment. It’s clearly not helping and the last thing she wants is to stress him out more. So she reaches between them and takes his hand. “You’re life isn’t less important than mine.”

Her words take him by surprise. She can see the words make their impact. His brows furrow in confusion but he doesn’t say anything. Not for a long moment. He’s stalling. “I didn’t say that,” is what he settles on.

She looks up at him and she’s disappointed. They’re profilers and he settles on deflection. She can’t say she’s surprised, he always chooses deflection. She’s just as stubborn as him though and she’s not afraid to push a little. “Your actions did.”

“Prentiss, I couldn’t--”

She lets go of his hand. For a moment, her anger gets the better of her. He gets the message and stops talking but the damage has been done. Of course, he’s not going to say that his life has less value than hers. He’s not stupid. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t think it.

“We’re partners, right?” She sits forward in the chair. “You trust me?” She already knows the answers. She knows everything he’s going to do.

Hie scowls and he opens his mouth before he shuts it. He shakes his head as he says, “of course.”

She reaches back out to him, taking his hand again. His fingers are cold, his body still not fully recovered from the blood transfusions he needed. She needs something like this to never occur again. “Then it’s your job,” she tells him. “To cover my ass when I mess up and it’s my job to cover yours.”

He doesn’t look at her. He can’t. He could have gotten her killed. Can’t she understand that? She should be furious at him for putting her life at risk. Not trying to go over protocol. He understands, though, that she’s trying to make a point so he nods his understanding.

“I trust you with my life,” she whispers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you trust yourself with it?”

She’s right of course. If there was time for him to step in the way, there was time for her to move out of the way. A thousand things could have happened and, in the end, his actions weren’t warranted. This hits his chest in a tight, painful bundle. He has to look away from her. Clenching his teeth against the tears threatening to sting his eyes.

“Hotch, you gave me a family.” She squeezes his fingers, feeling her own emotions bubbling right back to the surface. It’s out of character, she can recognize that but something happened in that house during the raid. Something she never wants to happen again. “You are a part of my family, whether you like that or not.”

He turns to look at her, his mouth unable to tell her that he knows and he does like it but that’s okay. They’ve always been able to understand passing glancing. He offers her a lopsided, forced smile when she rubs her thumb over his rough hands.

“I love you,” she says with a roll of her eyes because she’s Emily Prentiss and she can’t take herself seriously for too long. She stands from the chair at his side and knocks the back of her hand against his shoulder. “And,” she adds, “don’t take any bullets to the neck for me, alright? I’m starting to feel like I owe you.”

He nods his understanding, still not trusting his voice.

Just as JJ did, she presses a kiss to his cheek.

Prentiss feels pretty safe at that moment. He’s high as balls and she doubts he’s capable of anything more than a grumbled complaint.

He’s full of grumbled complaints but this time he doesn’t offer her one.

He doesn’t spare Morgan the same courtesy.

“Hotch,” Morgan manages, taking a deep breath to stop himself from losing his cool. “I love you, man. You know I do but if you don’t stand still--” Honest, Morgan’s seen Henry and Jack behave better. The soft corrector does the job though and Hotch lets Morgan shoulder some of his weight. Leaning into Morgan as they walk.

He knows he asked Hotch to lean into him. He said it would be okay but to feel the way Hotch trusts him, the way he stiffens in pain instead of masking it… Morgan has to clear his throat. “Hotch?”

Hotch is limping the whole way. Getting shot in the neck sucks but hitting a wall and breaking ribs isn’t any better. Through gritted teeth, he replies, “yes.”

“Don’t scare us like that again, alright?” Morgan keeps the pace going, forcing Hotch to keep moving even when he pauses as Morgan’s words take him by surprise. Morgan’s on a roll, though, and he’s got to get it off his chest. He can’t let Hotch think that Morgan wants this. “I can’t… This team…” it’s harder than he wants to admit. “I’m not ready to lead this team. I don’t… I don’t want to, man.”

Hotch remains silent. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say but he’s exhausted and he’s not sure he’s got it in him to tell Morgan that won’t happen. It might.

“We left you the couch,” Morgan changes the subject. He steers Hotch through the opening of the jet, forcing him in the direction of the couch. As soon as Hotch is seated, Morgan excuses himself. He ducks away, taking his own seat and putting his music on.

A proper distraction from the emotions burning his throat.

David Rossi knew the moment he met Aaron Hotchner that he would take the world by storm. Through the years, Rossi watched that rip him apart. Being unyielding and selfless is good in measure but too often Rossi found himself holding the younger man together. His hands interlaced over a bullet wound, holding him upright as his lungs rebel from smoke inhalation, and, on more than one occasion, watching him push himself past the point of no return.

David Rossi also knew Aaron Hotchner was going to be a problem child. Unlike the other interns, Hotch was married, had gone to law school, and had a successful career. A state attorney turned federal agent… Rossi was initially skeptical. He got a wise-crack, no-nonsense, hot-headed nerd dressed in mediocre suits but, Rosis had to hand it to him, the kid had spunk. So Rossi put in the time.

He trained a prodigy and he watched that prodigy fail and break.

But Hotch never quit.

Not after Gideon and the bomb that killed nearly their whole team.

The Fisher King and Elle Greenaway.

Tobias Hankle.

New York and Kate Joyner.

Strauss.

Foyet…

On the jet’s couch, some twenty-- hell, maybe thirty-- years after their initial meeting David Rossi is gently combing his fingers through that bull-headed new kid’s hair. His thoughts are actively drifting away. Back to times when he was the Unit Chief and Hotch was a lanky kid. Prone to accidents of spilled coffee stains on crisp white dress shirts and knocking files off his desk with his elbows. Dave and Jason had an ongoing joke that the poor kid should have come with a warning label sewed into the ass of his suits.

He cracks an eye open, aware of a shifting presence. Emily. He offers her a small smile, “anything I can help you with, bella?” His voice is deep, bothered with exhaustion, and tinged with an unsettled sadness.

But that’s all part of the job.

They get the bad guys and stop them from hurting people. Only, sometimes they become the hurt-- the victims.

Hotch just added his name to another serial killer’s list of victims. His name is starting to appear a lot these days.

Prentiss shakes her head. She’d been sitting on the other side of the jet and for a moment it occurred to her that from her vantage point she couldn’t tell if Hotch was breathing or not. Panic struck her center mass and she’d risen to her feet, clearing half the jet to get to him. To be close enough to see his chest is rising. To see if he's still breathing.

“I thought he wasn’t breathing,” she tells Rossi. “I just… it freaked me out.”

Rossi nods his understanding and shakes his head sympathetically, but not for Emily.

He’s not sure what Garcia has planned but he’d put money down on the fact that Hotch isn’t ready for it.

Hotch is not even through the glass doors at BAU when the sound of heels prefaces Penelope Garcia shouting down the hall. He takes a step back, glancing at the others in confusion as they chuckle. Like they know what’s about to happen. He moves back to the hall, nodding his head at a rapidly approaching Garcia.

“Sir!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Garcia.”

She comes to a stuttering halt, taking a deep breath as she steadies herself.

Something about it, he can’t explain it, strikes him as humorous. He shakes his head and smiles. Next thing he knows she’s thrown her arms around him. Hotch raises an eyebrow, his confusion not muffling the smile still spread across his face. “Whatever was that for?” He wouldn’t lie by stating the feelings he has at this moment are anything other than happily surprised.

Garcia’s smile is a twisted happy smile laced with sadness being overtaken. “You stopped smiling for so long, I-- It just made me so happy to see you happy.”

And he realizes she’s right.

He hasn’t smiled in a long time but… slowly, his team has wormed their way into breaking that.

Son.

I love and appreciate you.

I wouldn’t think differently of you.

You’re a part of my family.

I love you, man.

"Please, " Garcia says softly. "Don't ever do that again, okay? You scared me--" she sucks in a breath and it sounds so much like an approaching sob that he reaches out and pulls her back into a hug.

"I'll be more careful, " he promises. "No more close calls."

She squeezes him gently, aware of his ribs. "Good, " she whispers, "because I'm tired of losing people I love."

And he remembers that next time he sinks. He reminds himself constantly.

Aaron Hotchner is loved. He has a family to come home to. They need him.

And he doesn't always have to be the strong one.

253 notes · View notes

flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Shame and Toxic Fame (vol. 1)

Ah! I’m back with a two (maybe three?) part story which is kinda inspired by the song Life of the Party by All Time Low (not shawn mendes lmao). If you don’t know it check it out it’s super good.

In this one reader is a famous singer because why not! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Music star!reader

Word count: 3727

Warnings: Mention of substance abuse (both alcohol and drugs), light bar fight violence

I spent an embarassing amount of time searching for a gif for this one oof

The night was going absolutely great until you took a look at yourself in the mirror during a quick fix up.

You were a mess.

Your red eyes were contrasting with your smudged dark makeup, your bronzer and highlighter were mostly gone and the poor imitation of a lipstick stain was stretched all over your mouth and teeth. You lifted a hand to fix it, but in your dizzy state, it didn’t do much. Your purple top was ruined with alcohol and your bracelets were stuck on your skin from the sugar of your drinks’ mixers. You had a moment of lucidity right there, asking how the hell you ended up at rock bottom so quick, but you didn’t like it. You reached in your pocket and took the last smiley face pill in your little plastic bag, and like it, you put a grin on your face and returned to the party. You grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar, made your way over the passed out people on the ground and rejoined the dancefloor.

You were dancing, high on the colors and sound waves around you when the illusion shattered.

Your ex walked in with his friends, laughing and joking like he owned the place. You gasped in offense at the audacity of him showing up to your birthday party. At your place. Like he hadn’t humiliated you publicly less than a month ago in front of the whole world. Your grip on the bottle tightened and you stomped in his direction. His friends noticed your first, halting their laugh and tapping him on the chest. His eyes met yours and they widened in humour at your state.

“You!” You screamed. The music turned down, the chatter died. Murmurs went around the crowd and cameras got taken out as people formed a circle around you.

“Me” He pointed at himself.

“How dare you!” You pushed him back, suddenly unhinged. He laughed with the crowd, holding his hands up in defense. But he wasn't taking you seriously. “How dare you show up here!”

“It said open house, darling” Now he was patronizing. “I can be here. Beside, happy birthday”

“Get out” You gritted your teeth. “GET OUT”

“No”

Without really thinking, you lifted your bottle and slammed it on the table, shattering it. Yelps went around the crowd, and they got even louder when you pointed the jagged end in his direction.

“Wow WOW” He backed up. “Fucking crazy bitch!”

You couldn’t really recall what went next. People came in between you two as he kept shouting for someone to “take this crazy bitch away from him”. Arms restrained you around the waist, you threw up, you think, and you blacked out.

--------

You groaned as you felt sunlight hit your eyes. You threw an arm over your face and forced yourself not to think about your fragile stomach. The taste in your mouth was foul and your head was pounding like crazy. Now you had become quite the expert on hangovers lately, but this one was definitely the worst you had ever had. And it became only worse when memories from the night before started to come back, if it was even possible.

The thought of that shitshow alone made you puke.

You turned around in your bed, knowing you’d have to clean the alcohol off your floor anyway. Beside, you wouldn’t have made it to the bathroom on time. But to your surprise, you found a metal bucket at the foot of the bed, ready for you to grab and hurl the content of your stomach in it. Only when you didn’t have anything more to throw up that you realized you did not own anything like this bucket, or that the bedside table had gone from your cherry wood to an unfamiliar oak grey. Thinking about it, you didn’t own a navy blue carpet, nor were your sheets that color either.

Fuck.

You looked around in panic when you realized that you were not, in fact, in your bedroom. You had been changed into a large t-shirt, but you still had your underwear underneath it as well as your purple tank top. You half sighed in relief, then hissed at the pounding in your head. You had sat up way too quickly and now you made it worse. Your eyes were dragged to the bucket, and your nose scrunched up. You would have thrown up again if there had been anything left in your stomach. Then your eyes trailed to the grey oak night table, on which there was your phone (plugged in a charger?) beside two ibuprofen and a glass of water.

Without question, you took them and drank the water slowly to make them pass. You were parched, but your stomach did not like the input of liquid right now. When you were sure the water wouldn’t come back out, you slowly reached for your phone and flinched even before turning on the lockscreen. Your fears were confirmed when you came face to face with about a hundred texts with the same thumbnail and a lot of capital letters and punctuation. You had a ridiculous amount of notifications from every social apps you had, and they were still getting in as you stared in shock at your screen. Your hand flew to your mouth, not from the threat of puking this time. Tears brimmed your eyes as you realized just exactly what you had put yourself into. You shook your head, feeling your breathing accelerate. You were overwhelmed, and instead of opening conversations--any conversation--you just shut your phone down and threw it on the floor.

“What have I done” You mumbled to yourself, trying to swallow back the panic attack threatening to surface. Dragged in the mud the remaining of your pride, that’s what you did.

A quiet knock on the door pulled you back from your own spiral of shame. You didn’t speak. “Uh, (Y/N), are you okay? I heard a thud from here”

“Yeah” You replied, and you voice came back more hoarse than you thought. The voice was male, and it seemed uncertain. You did not recognize it. “Thanks”

“... Can I come in?”

You considered refusing, as you were still too ashamed to face anyone, and still unsure about the intention of whoever brought you here. But then again, they didn’t seem to have touched you, and they asked to come in rather than barge in. Also, they had left a bucket. That was the most anyone did for you in a while.

“S-Sure”

The door creaked open and a tall man with dark hair stood behind it. He peeked inside, like he was hesitant to step in further, but he nodded to himself when he saw you weren't dead. And if you looked like a dressing room carpet after a Guns and Roses after party, which you most certainly did, he did not let it show on his face.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright” He hummed. “Last night, you seemed pretty… Uh...”

“Wasted? Trashed? Ridiculous?” You offered with a sad smile, waiting for him to laugh at you or show you a video of what you did.

“I was thinking more of in need of a hand” He replied gently, taking you aback. “My brother and I brought you back here before the paps could swarm the place, but don’t worry my sister changed you. I wasn’t--”

You looked down at the shirt, then back at him.

“Thanks” Your eyes filled with water again.

“Oh, hey, no please--” He rushed inside. “Please don’t cry”

Obviously, that was the one thing not to say, because as if on cue you began crying. He grabbed the tissue box on the desk and brought it to you. You mumbled a thanks and blew your nose with all the grace left you possessed. Now you must have truly looked like a sight for sore eyes, bawling in a stranger’s bedroom as he handed you tissues.

“Hey, come on, it’s okay” He shushed, giving you awkward pats on the back. You could tell he didn’t do that often, judging by his awkwardness, but it did make you feel better. At least he wasn’t judging you like he should be; he must have seen the pathetic excuse of a fight that had gone down at your party. “Let it all out”

You finally calmed down after a few minutes, sniffing and wiping your eyes. You took a deep breath, then another one and nodded. Your glance trailed up to his face, and much to his credit he did not grimace at your state from up close. He seemed uncomfortable, but not enough to be on the verge of running away. If anything, he did look genuinely concerned, which was unusual for your typical entourage. “What’s your name?”

“Jason”

“That’s a nice name” You lifted the corner of your lips. “Where are we?”

“Wayne Manor”

Your eyes widened. He’s that Jason?

“Yeah” Amusement overtook his features while you froze. He figured you did not intend to say that out loud.

You were in the Wayne Manor with an actual legend, and you hadn’t even realized it. He was even more famous than you, mostly for being the Wayne son that was found after two years of having disappeared.

“I’m sorry to tell you that your reputation is now forever tainted” You scoffed weakly. “Bringing back the breakdown diva will make people talk”

He snorted. “I doubt that’s the thing I’ll be remembered about”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I, uh” He scratched the back of his neck. “You really don’t recall what went down yesterday?”

“No” You shook your head. “I can’t see past the moment I yelled at my ex to get out”

“Okay… Just to be sure, he was the bad guy, right?” He flinched, and your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I might uh. You know what, it’ll just be easier to show you”

He fished out his phone out of his back pocket and pulled out a video, then dragged the time mark to one specific moment. He handed you the phone and you pressed play. It started as you smashed the bottle, making wine explode everywhere including on yourself. Not your proudest moment. Then the crowd shrieked and people came to break the fight, you were pulled out of view as Jason appeared, trying to make your ex back off. Something the mic didn’t quite catch was said, and that’s when you saw what he meant. In barely a second, Jason blocked your ex’s punch and replied with two quick ones of his own. Your ex was sent flying backwards, unconscious and bloody, and the video ended with that.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh god”

“Yeah” He sighed. “Sorry”

“Sorry?” Your eyes flickered back to him as you handed him his phone. “N-No, don’t be. I mean, he definitely deserved that”

It was his time to be taken aback.

“You’re good with that?”

“Obviously” You gave him a small smile. “I just wish I was the one who punched him”

“Well, judging by the smash bottle of wine you were holding up, I’d say you came pretty damn close”

You allowed yourself to chuckle before you remembered you were still a surprise guest in the manor. Jason had helped you out, but he and his family would probably want you out of their home as soon as possible. You looked down at your laps and fidgeted with your fingers.

“I, uh, I should go” You mumbled. “I don’t want to burden you much longer with my presence, uh, you must want me out of here”

He blinked.

“You’re not a burden” He replied. “You still seem pretty shaken up. You can stay here as long as you want, the house is certainly big enough”

You bit the inside of your cheek. On one hand, you really did feel like imposing. On the other hand, the offer really did sound tempting. You weren’t ready to face the world just yet, and Wayne Manor was the perfect hideout for you to ride out the embarrassment. But Jason had already been way too nice to you as it was, and it was more than you deserved.

You shook your head. “Thanks, but--”

“I know you don’t want to go” He interrupted you softly. “I can see it, and I understand. You don’t have to expose yourself to the vultures just yet”

You felt the back of your neck heat up. You had no idea any of Bruce Wayne’s kid would be so… Not what you thought they’d be. You surely did not expect that level of kindness.

“Don’t you worry, we’ve all been there” He looked up, then gave you a knowing smile. “Take your time, there’s a bathroom right behind this door, fresh clothes in the drawers and a fully stocked kitchen when you’re ready to eat something. I make an amazing hangover smoothie”

He stood up and walked to the door.

“Thank you, Jason”

He nodded, then left you to do your stuff. You remained on the bed for a couple of minutes, texting a few people close to you you were okay, before you got a draft of your own smell. You gagged and immediately went for the shower.

------

Freshly showered and changed, you timidly headed down to the kitchen. You got lost a few times on the way there, but you finally made it. You were relieved there was only Jason preparing food; you weren’t sure coming face to face with Bruce Wayne would be a great idea in your state. You were all cleaned up, but even a good wash couldn’t erase the bags under your eyes or the pounding in your head that made you flinch every now and then.

“Feeling better?”

“Much better” You smiled. “Thank you”

“Hey, no problem” He chuckled as he pushed a glass with a thick, pale green liquid your way. “Besides, it’s kind of an honor to have you here”

You cocked your head to the side.

“I mean, you’re pret-ty amazing” He said, taking a bite of his toast. “You have some admirers around here… Talking of which”

You followed his glance behind you, where a grinning, wide eyed young man was standing. You knew who he was, Dick Grayson was hard not to notice around Gotham. You were just surprised of his reaction from seeing, apparently, well, you.

“Hi” He smiled even brighter, if it was possible. “I’m Dick. Big fan”

“Hi” You gave him a small wave back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Uh?”

“I was there too yesterday. I held you up when you, well”

“Oh” You looked away. So, that was the brother that had witnessed your disgrace in live action. Super. “Yeah, I feel better, thanks”

“Great!” The sound made you flinch as it resonated in your head, making him mutter a sheepish apology.

“Alright Grayson, now’s not the time to be a fanboy” Jason teased, before he turned to face you. “Come, I’ll show you somewhere quiet to pass the hangover”

You grabbed your glass and followed him out of the kitchen and around the manor to some remote room on the end of a wing. He pushed the door open to a room with wide windows and warm lightning, a library you realized by the few bookshelves around.

“Make yourself comfortable” He gestured to the seats around. “It’s the most relaxing place in the house, because my siblings are not allowed here”

“Why is that?”

“My library, my rules”

“Your library?” You raised your eyebrows, but he just shrugged.

“They can use the big one” He explained. “This is my space, and it comes handy when you have four annoying siblings”

“Gotcha” You smiled lightly as you walked around the room, observing the book titles. He had interesting tastes, you had no idea again he was that kind of guy. Well, you knew next to nothing about him, come to think of it. But the little you thought you had right from the tabloids was totally wrong. You kept snooping around as he sat in a chair and opened a book, until you came face to face with a beautiful acoustic six strings waiting there. You reached for it, but pulled your hand back last second. When you glanced back at Jason, he was already looking at you above his book.

“May I?”

“Knock yourself out” He gestured to it, then returned to his book.

You restrained your new found excitement as you carefully picked the guitar up from its stand and carried it to a seat. A couple of strums told you it was slightly out of tune, so you adjusted the keys until it sounded on the note. You began playing the strings softly and humming along, until you felt Jason’s stare on you. His book was down on his laps and he had an interested glint in his eyes. Your fingers paused as you felt once again the heat creep up your neck.

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your reading” You mumbled, suddenly feeling bad for violating his silent heaven.

“No, don’t worry” He reassured. “It’s quite nice. Did you compose that yourself?”

“Uh, yeah” You nodded. “It’s been so long, though. I don’t compose much anymore”

“Why?”

You smiled sadly. “I now have an extensive team of producers that make my music for me. Apparently, getting that catchy, polished, flawless radio hit is the priority these days. Better for business”

“Yeah well, that’s bullshit if you ask me” He leaned slightly forward. “I think a personal, heartfelt song will always be better”

“You and I both” You sighed. “Honestly I have no idea how I ended up here, or where I went wrong”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows drew in confusion. “You didn’t go that bad”

“Are you kidding me?” You choked on air, your eyes widening. “Haven’t you followed the tabloids the last year? Hell, you were there yesterday. You saw how trashed I was, and that was hardly an exception. I have earned a title of Breakdown Princess for a reason”

“Maybe” He shrugged. “But you were part of a culture putting inhuman pressure on public figures, especially women to perform and be perfect all the time ever since you were what, sixteen? And with what I’ve seen from that guy I punched… Anyway. All I’m saying is, don’t blame yourself too much for a game you were tricked to play”

You could only stare at him blankly, blinking rapidly. You had expected him to get it a bit, with being the son of Bruce Wayne and all. But holy shit, even you had never seen it like this before. Maybe he had a point. When you looked at it, the pressure you endured from everyone around you, the endless parties your agent had booked you to attend, the new album, the promos and press tours, actual tours, the substance addiction scandal, all the shit with your ex that tanked your reputation, hitting rock bottom…

The last year had been hell, to say the least.

“How do you know all that?” Your question was genuine, and he gave you a quizzical half smile and a little shrug.

“When I told you earlier that we’ve all been there…” He trailed off. “Just know that I know how it feels. To have pressure to be someone you’re not”

“Well” You took a deep breath. “Thank you, I think I needed to hear that”

“Don’t mention it” He leaned back in his chair, before his expression subtly changed. “Actually, I’d have a little request, if you don’t mind”

“Go ahead”

“Could you play that song for me?” He asked. “I’d like to hear it”

You smiled and nodded at the innocence of his request. Of course you could do that to the person that literally swooped in and saved the day, and provided you with care after your own shit show. You began strumming the song you were playing just before, this time fully singing along. It had been years since you had played it, but it was your favourite you had ever written, and you still remembered it by heart. It made you smile even more, definitely bringing you in a good mood. You played the last chords of the song and looked up to see Jason hanging onto every sound.

“I…” He began. “Wow. Why was that never released again?”

You shrugged lightly. “My agent wouldn’t let me, I guess”

“You should release it anyway” He continued. “This is honest to god amazing”

“Thanks” You let out a quiet laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “Honestly, I wish I could just… Fire everyone. And get back to the basics, release my on stuff, you know?”

“Then do it”

“I can’t just do it” You replied quickly in confusion. “There are contracts and--”

“Sure you can” He said, an amused yet relaxed expression on his face. “I, Jason Todd, give you the explicit permission to use the Wayne name to scare any lawyer getting in the way of your full emancipation”

You laughed at his self assured grin, but also to hide your surprise. Of course, you knew the Wayne lawyers were the best in town and would most probably put the fear of god in the heart of your record label and agent, but you still weren’t sure if he was kidding or not.

“I’m serious” He added after a moment. “If you need help to get out of these contracts, we’re more than willing to help”

“You’d do that for me?” You asked carefully. “I’m just a stranger”

“Ah well, helping strangers is kind of our thing here” He hummed, looking up at the ceiling before his glance met yours again. “Besides, it’s really cool that you’re here. All of us will so be plugging that we know you in every conversation from now on. Especially Dick”

You laughed again, lighter this time.

“Be my guest” You grinned. “I doubt it’ll achieve anything but raised eyebrows these days but if it makes you feel good…”

“Superb” His grin matched yours. “Now, I’ll let you play in peace”

“And I’ll let you read in peace”

You exchanged a smile, then kept messing around the chords as he picked up his book again.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader #dc #dcu #DC Universe #dc imagine #dcu imagine #dc universe imagine #batfam #imagine #au

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nastybuckybarnes · 5 years

Text

Wicked Games - Four

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU

Summary: Everyone in the world has a soulmate. And until they meet that soulmate, everyone in the world stops aging at 25. Wrongfully accused of a horrendous crime and on the run, you happen to bump into the man who’s been avoiding you for the past seventy-five years.

Warnings: Language, Fluff? Rape and Abuse mentions

Word Count: 2.1K

A/n: I’m really tired rn and idk how good this chapter is. I just wanna write the spicy stuff lmao

MASTERLIST 1 2 3 Series Masterlist

~*~

“Eat.” You startle awake as a bowl of mush is tossed into your lap.

“Why?” You ask, not understanding why this cop hasn’t turned you in yet.

“Because if you don’t you’ll die,” he says matter-of-factly. You roll your eyes and struggle into a seated position in the bathtub. “It’ll kinda be hard to eat with my hands stuck behind my fucking back,” you snap, not bothering to try and stay on his good side.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, leaning down and carefully uncuffing one of your wrists only to cuff it again in front of you. “Now eat. Then we talk.” You roll your eyes but scoop some of the mush up on your fingers and carefully bring it to your mouth, tasting it with the tip of your tongue then shovelling it into your mouth.

Bucky watches you with a disgusted look on his face as you scarf down the food.

“Why did you kill Rumlow?” He asks after a minute of you eating. You look up at him then back down to the bowl of food. “You’re not legally allowed to question me until I have a lawyer present,” you inform. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his thick chest. “I’m not in uniform. I’m asking you as the man who saved your life. Maybe the only man interested in actual justice and not revenge. If you’d tell me why you killed him this would all be so much easier.” You chew slowly then shake your head.

“I’ve learned not to trust cops,” is how you reply. It’s more than enough to clue Bucky in.

“C’mon. Get up. You’re gonna take a shower and get changed and then you’re gonna give me the reasons as to why you’ve been on the run this whole time. If you listen and you’re good, I’ll be able to help you. Got it?” You nod slowly, allowing him to carefully pull you to your feet.

“I’m gonna let you out of your cuffs and lock the door. Just know that I’ll be waiting outside with my taser and pepper spray, should you get any ideas about escaping. You’re stuck here with me. Towels are in the cabinet and there’s body wash in the shower somewhere. I do advise cleaning all this blood up first though.” he nods to the sticky substance coating the floor and walls of the bathtub. You nod and let him help you out of the tub.

“You have twenty minutes. There are no windows in here and only one door that I can lock from the outside. You have no way of getting out so don’t even try.” You slump your shoulders but nod again, rubbing your raw wrists after h takes the cuffs off.

“Twenty minutes start now.”

He leaves the bathroom and locks the door. After standing there for three minutes, you turn the water on as hot as it goes and let it wash away the blood dirtying the tub. Once the tub is clean you strip off your clothes and grab a facecloth from the closet. It takes a moment to find your courage, but you’re glad you do because the hot water feels absolutely incredible on your aching skin.

The pressure is perfect and cleans the mud, blood, and grime of the past few days right off of your skin.

You enjoy the warmth for a moment then get down to business; ignoring the pain in your wrists as you begin washing your body with the mahogany body wash.

You feel clean and refreshed, your hair finger-combed and washed with an expensive looking shampoo that smells like lilac.

Once you're finished you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a fluffy white towel, looking around the room and pondering what to do next. You know you can’t escape, so there’s no point in trying.

Something inside of you is telling you to trust this cop. That he’s not like the others and he'll actually help you. He won’t be like Rumlow.

The still-prominent bruises and cuts all over your body remind you of just how awful Brock was, and you shudder.

“Are you decent?” He asks through the door, snapping you out of your haze. “I... you didn’t give me any clean clothes,” you say softly, afraid that he’ll take advantage of your vulnerable state.

“I know.” The door opens and you scream as he walks in, terrified and cowering in the corner. “Please don't! I-I’ll do anything! Please don't!” He freezes in his tracks, curses twice, then tosses a bundle of something at your feet and dashes out of the bathroom, locking the door behind himself.

You wait for a moment, tears streaming down your cheeks as your heart races, then end down and inspect the pile of stuff. He’s given you a t-shirt, a pair of boxers with the tags still on, and a pair of sweatpants that look three sizes too fucking gigantic.

Nevertheless, you put the clothes on then sit on the floor across from the toilet, your eyes focused on the door as you hear the lock click.

“(Y/n)... I... fuck. I won’t touch you, okay? Not... not like that. I won’t take advantage of you or anything. I promise. Okay?” You wipe your cheeks and watch as the door slowly opens. Bucky looks at you, all curled up in a ball on the floor, and his heart breaks.

“He touched you, didn’t he?” You don’t look up at him, nodding your head yes.

“(Y/n) I’m going to be very blunt with you now, you have to answer me truthfully because this will change the entire case. Did Brock Rumlow sexually assault you?” You nod once more, biting back a sob.

“Fucking Hell...” He trails off and scratches the nape of his neck. “I always knew he was a bad guy, but I never thought...” he looks at you then takes a deep breath. “Do you have any cuts or bruises from him?” You glare up at him and shake your head, not liking where this is going.

“I’ll stay right here. I just... I need to see them. It will make everything a lot easier for you.” You take a deep breath and carefully pull the shirt off, feeling embarrassed at being shirtless in front of this stranger. But some strange part of you is telling you that this is fine.

He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your torso.

Your ribs are darkened, stained with bruises from either cracks or full breaks to the bones. You have multiple deep cuts that look like they’ve been stitched together by a three-year-old, and other fading bruises that cover the rest of your body. Around your neck are still very prominent bruises in the shape of fingers, indicating that you’ve been choked, and he can see similar bruises on your hips.

“C-can I put it back on now?” You ask, your voice wavering. He nods and looks away as you pull the shirt back on.

“Jesus. Come out here. I’m gonna make you some tea and you’re gonna start talking, understand?” You nod your head yes and follow him out of the bathroom, fighting tears the whole way as you realize you’ll have to relive everything that awful man did to you.

Bucky’s quiet as he boils the kettle, mulling over everything he’s just found out.

You most likely killed Rumlow in self-defence, called the cops to tell them that, then hung up because you remembered that they probably won’t take your side over their dead buddy’s anyway.

He slides a steaming mug over to you and you stir in a spoonful of honey. “Thank you, officer.” He shakes his head at you. “James. My name is James.” You nod and keep your eyes down. “So he hurt you, huh?” You don’t answer, taking a sip of the hot beverage and trying to block out the painful memories.

“Well... this changes things. I’m almost thinking we should hand this case over to a different police department because ours is too personally attached to the case. But Pierce would never accept that. Fuck, this is a mess, isn’t it?” You nod, not looking up from the speckled grey countertop.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you. Relax. You’re safe here with me, I promise. Hell, this is the safest you’ll probably ever be. Nobody will hurt you here.” You nod skeptically and take another sip of tea, letting the liquid burn your tongue and throat on the way down.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” You can’t stop the words from slipping out, but he doesn’t seem to hate the question. “You’ll stay here for a little while. Get better while I see who at the station is open minded. Then... I don’t know.” You nod, biting your bottom lip.

“Do you know why he did that stuff to you?” He asks softly, wanting to figure out why on earth Rumlow would want to harm someone who looks so delicate and fragile. You look up into his eyes for a split second, displaying that you have information that he needs and wants, then look back down to your tea.

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything right away, but you will need to come clean and confess at some point. Okay?” you nod, understanding that much. “Good. Now I-” knocking on the door cuts him off and you snap your head up. “Buck? It’s me, Steve. Open up.” Your heart drops as you recognize the voice of one of the cops who chased you through Walmart.

“Go up the stairs into the first room on the right. It’s a guest bedroom that nobody ever goes in. Hurry!” You discard your tea and run as fast and as quietly as you can up the stairs and into the room, closing the door halfway and sitting on the floor, one hand covering your mouth as you try to slow your heart rate.

“Hey Steve,” James’ muffled voice says from downstairs.

“Thought I’d see how you were doing. You were pretty heated at work the other day and pretty distracted yesterday. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” That’s the second man, Steve.

“I’m... tired. Confused. Frustrated. I just want this case to solve itself. I mean, it doesn’t make sense for her to just kill him, there must’ve been a reason. And there was clearly a fight between the two fo them. What if she was the victim but got the upper hand somehow? What if he's been abusing her this whole time and she finally had enough?”

Steve whistles, “you’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?” You hear James sigh. “Yeah. I’ve had to. I don’t want to send an innocent person to jail, Steve. There’s just so much we’re missing from the story and I want to have it all figured out already.” You hear them moving around below you.

“I’m sure we will, Bucky. But it’s gonna take time and patience. But we'll figure this out. I promise.”

You hear someone sigh again. “I just... what if she’s hurt? What if Rumlow... what if it’s him who’s the bad guy in all of this and she’s just.... innocent?” You hold your breath as you wait for Steve’s response.

“Then we’d better find her and help her.”

The door gets slowly pushed open and you watch as James walks in. He sits down across from you on the floor and stares at you.

“Steve’s gonna be seeing who at the station is open-minded, and from there we’ll decide what to do. If things are really rough, we might send you to a different. police station to confess. But until then you’re gonna be staying here with me. I’m the only one who knows you’re here and I’d like to keep it that way.”

You stare at him as he stands up and offers you his hand, hesitating for a moment before putting your hand in his and letting him pull you to your feet.

The feeling of his skin against yours sends a spark of electricity racing down your spine, a shiver of pleasure following right after it.

His eyes widen for the briefest of moments and you swear you see genuine fear in them, your own eyes widening as warmth spreads from where your hands are touching.

He drops your hand quickly then motions for you to follow him out of the room, leading you back downstairs to the kitchen to grab a snack and finish your tea.

TAGS: PERMANENT TAGS:

@smolbeanbucky @wildefire @inumorph @impalatobakerstreet @nanna022 @mummy-woves-you @m-a-t-91 @wtfholland @bookgirlunicorn @beautifulwisdom2001 @deep-sea-glitter @mrhiddles-81 @iamwarrenspeace @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui

MARVEL:

@fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis

Wicked Games:

@lilypalmer1987 @bisexualfangirlsblog @i-am-always-famished @clarysthing @starkxpotts @e-wolf-98 @i-run-on-green-tea @nerd-without-a-cause @jamesbuckybarnes13 @theonelittleone @bradfordsgreekgod @littledeadrottinghood @ashlebetty @izhetbean @mu-mu-rs @bruisedfaye @bisoueffleurer @itsphinee @spnsquirrel @my-suga-kookies

Bucky:

@chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight

#cop!bucky #cop!bucky x reader #cop bucky x reader #cop!bucky x criminal!reader #cop!bucky x Criminal!Reader soulmate au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader soulmate au #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader series

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

I'm like, ridiculously invested in the Lumberjack lesbian mom au, so I have a question and an idea that bounces off the question. Does she know they have powers? And then what if they were in the city and she (or some other probably child civilian) gets trapped in like... A burning building or something, and Five gets her out but people see him and Reginald actually does show up, following the rumors of potential Umbrella Academy kids so Ellie gets to make good on her threat😂

She does! But not at first, they keep that under wraps because they assume that if she figures out they’re The Umbrella Academy then she’ll send them back oof and they have Vanya’s inclusion to throw off the scent as well because there’s six umbrella academy kids and seven of them

but i mean Ellie wasn’t exactly born yesterday one of these little sucker’s name is Five and sometimes they call each other by numbers or - on rare occasions - their hero names (usually only when they’re sniping at one another but Luther occasionally does it out of habit)

and these kids have weird trauma that pops up oddly. Like the fact that when Ellie is first getting everyone dinner she expects them to be,, you know,,, kids. Descend upon the food like a pack of ravenous wolves. They’re seven thirteen-year-olds they might as well be feral little gremlins regarding food they’re still growing. But nope they all very quietly pile around Ellie’s shitty table where they had to drag in like four chairs from various spots around the house into a mishmash pile and quietly wait as Ellie piles food on her own plate and she’s like “??? what are y’all waiting for???” and ben just blinks and looks at her oddly and is like “uhhh you haven’t given us permission to eat?” and ellie is just like “shit chow down kids y’all don’t need permission” but they’re all still hesitant and luther is like “how,, how much are we permitted” and ellie is just “????? i mean make sure your siblings get some but if there’s any left and you’re still hungry you can always go back for seconds”

just klaus being wide eyed and all “What’s seconds?? wait you’re telling me that after we’re done we can go back and get MORE food? just like that?” and ellie’s heart is breaking and also she’s mentally looking at her budget again about feeding seven ravenous children and figuring she’ll teach the kids to fish and what in the forest is edible

(she’ll figure out soon enough the kids already know, they’ve been living in the forest for a while before they came upon her and she adopted them, so ellie won’t have to worry too hard about feeding them when they come home with buckets full of blackberries and mud on their clothes)

but the point is that she’s pretty sure your average 13 yr old can’t help with the lumber with the amount of ease that Luther shows. She’s also pretty sure that the way the kids keep squirreling Vanya off into the woods is pretty suspect and so are the patches of woods where the trees are blown down like a localized tornado. Plus it’s hard not to notice that sometimes Five will go off in one direction and show up in another place entirely.

they think they’re being so sneaky about it

it’s probably five that gives it up in the end

they’re all gathered in front of the tv watching a movie with songs and dancing. Let’s say footloose because why not. Allison adores movies and dancing and all of that and will often make her siblings dance with her along with the characters and so they all have the furniture shoved back against the walls as they goof around. Ellie is sitting on the couch and Klaus is trying to teach her how to knit to no avail (he’s just much better at it than she is, she just doesn’t have the patience for this kind of thing - but then again she’d thought the same of Klaus but he seems to enjoy having something to keep his hands busy when he’s sitting with Clyde sprawled across his lap)

someone moves wrong and stumbles into someone else and they trip and hands go flailing and Five flinches but he’s had training at avoiding projectiles pounded into his head (and his flesh, bruises upon bruises and blood dripping down his lip) and so he does what comes naturally to him - he jumps before Diego can crash into him. Not far, just a few feet to the left as Diego crashes to the floor, but they all freeze because Five jumped

in front of Ellie

and Ellie is scowling at her knitting which she’s pretty sure she dropped a few stitches fucking somewhere and she isn’t sure where but she barely looks up she’s just like “No powers in the house” and jabs at something with a needle that might be picking up a stitch but might also be losing another one?

“What?” Allison blurts out, echoes by the others

Ellie looks up, “I mean, I don’t mind you kids using them out in the woods or anything but shit’s breakable in the house and we’re on a budget. We can negotiate when you’re older if you like.”

“you KNOW?” Diego asks, wide eyed and somewhat alarmed

“Diego.” Ellie says patiently, giving up and passing her knitting to an alarmed looking Klaus because really he’s good and if anyone can save whatever the fuck she managed to do it would be him, “Seven kids popped up outside my house. Six of which have the exact same names as the kids from the umbrella academy or whatever. Klaus literally had a nightmare the other night where he screamed about ghosts. And don’t think I didn’t see you throw that pinecone at your sister last week. Y’all aren’t exactly subtle.”

as though it didn’t take ellie fucking forever to put two and two together tbh like she figured out about the powers way before she figured out about the umbrella academy thing. She went to town and saw a gossip magazine with a picture of them all wondering why they hadn’t been seen in public (as if reginald is going to admit to them running away) and ellie was like ‘holy shiT’ at the time

“You didn’t say anything.” Vanya says, shakily

Ellie just shrugs again, “Well I figured y’all would come clean when you felt comfortable enough to. I’m glad you’re trusting me with this.”

“You aren’t going to send us back?” Five asks what they’re all thinking, and he’s shaking like a leaf, blue sparking across his hands like he wants to jump away and is only held back by sheer willpower

“Fuck no,” Ellie snorts, then frowns, “I mean uh, heck no. Don’t swear, kids. But like, your dad was clearly a piece of shit and I wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire, let alone give him even a plant to take care of never mind seven kids.”

There’s a pause as they all digest that

“No powers in the house?” Ben confirms, because they’re all familiar with rules

“Like I said, breakable shit.” Ellie nods, “I trust y’all are being safe using them out in woods at least. Figuring out control is important, but I trust you guys to know what you’re doing. They’re your powers, after all. But - if you ever need me don’t hesitate to ask. I might be just an ordinary person, but I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve.”

“You aren’t ordinary.” Vanya protests immediately, steel in her tone and by the way that all the others spines stiffen Ellie can figure she’s stepped on another landmine. There have been a couple, and Ellie keeps the ones she’s discovered written in a notebook in her room so she doesn’t forget (don’t jokingly put luther in charge, don’t turn off Klaus’s bedside lamp because he’s scared of the dark, don’t use the word rumor in any conversation ever, don’t mention the kids mother, telegraph her movements to five before touching him, and so on and so forth and now she can add ‘don’t use the word ordinary’ to the list as well), “You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met.”

There’s another lull.

“What happens if we do use them? In the house?” Five asks, voice so very quiet that it’s almost lost as Kevin Bacon loudly says something to the Preacher on screen.

and Ellie has to think about that, because she hasn’t really imposed any actual rules on the kids outside of like,, normal ones. Please be back before dark. Make sure everyone has something to eat, you can always go back for more if you’re still hungry. Pick up after yourself. The usual. And really, what can she do to punish a bunch of superpowered children, anyway?

So Ellie grins at them, “Then Clyde gets to sleep with me for the night.”

Immediately the tension is broken as the kids protest and cluster around to grab at Clyde dramatically. Clyde snorts awake but gives his tail some thumps at the attention even if he looks a little confused at why he’s receiving it. These days the little traitor sleeps with the kids who let him in their bed and cuddle him at night, all of them piled up on the mattresses that Ellie had thrown on the ground as they nest in the room that used to be her ‘office’

(she’s working on the extension to the house for them, but for now they have to share a bedroom. Not that they’ve complained about it, in face Ellie feels like she’s going to have to consult with them on what they want their sleeping arrangements to be in case they end up just wanting one giant bed to puppy pile on - which is fine for now but Ellie is pretty sure as they grow older they’re going to want their own spaces)

okay this got away from me i haven’t even looked at the second half of your ask

honestly if reginald did show up he’d knock on the door and Ellie would answer and then she’d squint at him when he demanded to see the children and would be like “oh hey it’s you ya motherfucker” and she’d be like “nope no kids here”

and reggie would point behind her to the family picture that ellie had taken a month ago that she loves because all the kids are smiling and laughing and ben is holding a frog and klaus is covered in mud and vanya has a leaf in her hair and luther’s pantlegs are soaking wet but it’s them and it’s wonderful and it’s her new favorite photo ever

and ellie looks him in the eye and deadpans, “haven’t gotten around to switching out the stock photo”

and reginald forces his way in and Ellie is maybe about two seconds away from fetching her wood chopping ax for Reasons and then the kids come back piling through the door loudly and raucously with laughs that die off when they see exactly who is in their living room, the front door still swinging open and Ellie looking coldly furious

even Clyde reads the mood and whines and there’s a loud growling grumble which absolutely does not come from Clyde but instead originates from the doorway leading deeper into the cabin where Marmalade/Orange Idiot stands with back arched as he bares his teeth at the intruder like the true guard cat he is

“Kids go to the other room.” Ellie says, and when they move to protest she puts her foot down with a “Now.” and a significant look because Vanya looks like a ghost all the blood has drained so fast from her face and Five is trembling and Klaus has tucked him and Ben behind Diego with wide frightened eyes and she knows the kids are going to eavesdrop but she wants them out of eyesight of their worst nightmare at the very least

Reginald is thankfully silent as the kids troop into the other room

“Clyde you go with them,” Ellie orders the dog, because those kids need as much comfort as they can get right not, and then she looks at the cat, “And Marm, you go too.” and hey her and Marm may not see eye to eye on most things but they both love the kids and Ellie feels like they have an understanding on the level of “if this ass goes into the room with the kids tear him a new asshole” and Marmalade sticks his tail in the air and hisses one more time at Reginald for good measure before trotting off as though he intended to exit the entire time

and Reginald says something about the kids returning and picking up their training pronto and Ellie just cuts him off

“Sir Asshat.” She says, ignoring the small gasp because her kids are not subtle, “I’m going to be straight with you - why the fuck do you think you’re walking out of here with any of those kids.”

and Reginald draws himself up and is like “They are my children. I made them what they are.”

“You traumatized a bunch of perfectly good kids is what you did.” Ellie says, “Look at them. They have anxiety. But that’s not what I’m getting at - though I don’t quite count buying them as being yours to begin with they’re children not furniture - but what I’m getting at is: how are you going to make them?”

and Reginald looks startled

“Those kids in there,” Ellie jabs a finger towards the wall, “Are extraordinary. And on top of that, they have powers the likes of which I’ve never seen before. And you think you, Mr. Hargreeves, are a match for them? If they decide to really go against you? You think you can force them to do anything they don’t want to do?”

She jabs a finger at Reginald’s chest, forcing him to take a step back. Because he came here thinking he had all the power, because he’s a powerful man and money talks. But not here it doesn’t. Not in Ellie’s grandmother’s cabin, in her neck of the woods, not when she has seven children behind her and the man who still gives them nightmares in front of her.

Ellie bares her teeth in what might generously be called a smile if it didn’t look too much like she wanted to tear Reginald’s throat out. “You are very lucky, Mr. Hargreeves. Because if I was in those kids shoes? There wouldn’t be anyone left to come looking for me, you know? You want that luck to hold, don’t you Mr. Hargreeves?”

“Are you threatening me?” Reginald demands, but looks unnerved. And he invaded her home, wants to take her kids away, wiped the smiles off of her kids faces and left them quiet and trembling and afraid just with one glance at them.

“No, sir.” Ellie tells him, “Just pointing out a truth is all. Now Mr. Hargreeves, I’ll even do you a favor and give you another truth for free. You see, you’re going to turn around and get the hell off of my property. You’re going to leave my kids alone, and never darken my doorstep again. You’re going to go back to your sad, miserable, lonely little life and you are never even going to think in the direction of my kids ever again. Do you understand?”

“I could have you arrested!” Reginald says severely, drawing himself up.

Ellie crosses her arms and looks to the side, where all the kids are now hovering in the doorway and watching this clash between the two adults. “Kids,” Ellie says, mild as milk, “If I were arrested would you bust me out?”

“Yeah.” Luther says, and the fact that’s it’s Luther who answers and has his face set in stone as he turns towards Ellie as if Reginald isn’t in the room. And Ellie is so fucking proud of him it hurts, “Of course we would.”

Ellie nods, “So you see, Mr. Hargreeves, the thing about family is that if you mess with one you mess with all. And I don’t think you really want to mess with us.”

And Reginald turns sharply to the door, cane flashing in the light and Ellie can see the kids flinch back and is kind of regretting not just going straight for the wood ax or maybe one of the kitchen knives or hey maybe just using her fists and going to town she’s pretty sure she can take this pasty old man

and reginald leaves and maybe he vows to return and ellie calmly tells him that if he shows up again she’ll consider him a trespasser and deal with him accordingly

and then he drives off and ellie goes back inside and the kids huddle around her and she sweeps them into her arms and presses kisses on their heads and cheeks and wipes away Vanya’s tears with one hand as she presses Klaus’s sobbing face into her shoulder and she promises them that she’ll never let them go back to their father’s care no matter what

even if that means taking the kids and running

“But your grandmother’s cabin - ” Ben starts, swiping a hand over his own tearstained face as Ellie reaches out to him

“Nana would understand.” Ellie tells him simply, “She’s dead, you’re alive. You come first over any silly little cabin, you hear?”

and that night everyone piles into Ellie’s room instead of going to their own, pressing against one another in a tangle of limbs that Ellie already knows is going to have her waking in the middle of the night sweating like a don’t know what but she can’t bring herself to protest not even why clyde hops in and so does the demon cat who she will never admit she likes

“If he comes back I’m going to kill him.” Ellie says, thoughtful as the kids settle around her, “You kids would help me bury the body, right?”

“If we killed him, do you think we could go rescue Mom?” Diego asks quietly, and Ellie is suddenly turning in bed because the kids only mentioned their mother once and then shut down entirely any other time ellie asked

“We don’t have to wait, sweetheart.” Ellie says, all thoughtful and maybe just a little bit vengeful and petty, “Tell me about your mom in the morning?”

and the kids snuggle closer and nod

and okay later when Ellie finally meets Grace she can admit that she expected an older woman around Reginald’s age not this lovely young woman with her 60s style skirt and her smile and oh she’s a robot?? okay yeah that makes sense there’s no way this literal angel of perfection could possibly be a mortal to begin with

yeah ellie might be fucked

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kariachi · 5 years

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Okay, y’all gave your approval, so I’m doing a partial liveblog of King of the Castle. Can’t get all of the episode right now, but I’m gonna do what I can and then redo the episode for a proper liveblog when it comes out in the states and I can, ya know, watch all of it.

This one won’t be rated, because I’m missing like 10% of the episode and so can’t judge fairly.

As someone who was once a young girl, it is incredibly nostalgic watching Gwen daydream about being crowned Queen of England. That is just how it be with some girls. Also Ben is just not having shit.

Lady Wilhelmina Warrick of Castle Bishopbrooke, nickname Willy. Huh. And apparently a cousin of some sort.

Gwen is going to die of joy for she is related to a Lady. Ben is going to die of horror for they’re going to a haunted castle. Sounds about accurate.

Ben running for the haunted castle for the sake of proving it’s haunted.

Kevin, lurking on either a roof or a balcony, waiting for a certain small Tennyson. Do we ever get an episode where he appears just, dive-tackling Ben from offscreen? I feel like we need that in our lives.

Gwen disappointed that the castle is in shit shape. I’d say just rough but, part of the floor is missing, including the area of rug that should be hiding it. Willy needs to step up her game, pick up a hammer or something. It’s called DIY.

Willy’s got some upper body strength. Also refers to Max as Cousin Maxie, so I have to assume the two are actually somewhat close. How close of a relation is it, I wonder?

Gwen curtseys and Ben tries to copy her but doesn’t have the balance for it. This is why we practice, Ben.

Gwen wanting to know everything about being a noble.

“There’s always work to be done” that’s putting it mildly.

The only thing here out to get you Ben is Kevin. Although I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind that, though I do think Gwen is right about it just being how bad of shape the building is in.

I’m fairly certain Willy’s about to put Max to work helping clean shit up (you brought it on yourself Max) while the kids escape, but given we lose some bits right here this is just an assumption. We jump from Max offering directly to Ben and Gwen wandering around.

Ben goes Heatblast to light a load of torches to keep ghosts at bay, and immediately the wind comes through and blows them all out again. And Heatblast himself while it’s at it.

More Kevin, sneaking about the halls. Child are you honestly behind this? I wouldn’t be surprised, you totally would, I just wanna know how. Also the fucking chord when he appears, it’s not Norman Bates fucking chill.

Ben is too scared of ghosts to wander around without his cousin.

Willy drinking tea while Max mops up and mice run about. I am not shocked.

Well Gwen, this is what happens when you go someplace labelled ‘haunted’. They tend to be very dusty and also a lot less elegant than the not-so-haunted castles. Besides, Willy’s a Lady not the Queen.

The Warrick family crest is a bear playing a harp like it’s a fucking electric guitar. Have you ever had that moment where you wonder where a character gets it and then the show just, answers you in the most unexpected way?

And Ben lights the tapestry on fire because an end curled up when Gwen went to look at it and so it is clearly evil and possessed. Gwen leaves, Ben panics, and the tapestry crumbles to ash after he throws it out a window. You know Kevin is behind one of those bookshelves going ‘this is why I bully him’.

Ben does not like being alone in a haunted castle.

Ben: “It’s clear what happened here- Gwen was eaten by a ghost, and you’re next if you aren’t careful! It’s too late for Gwen, but you have lots of options!” Followed by an imagine spot depicting him not being able to do shit to defend himself against a ghost with Gwen clearly visibly in it’s belly. 10-yos everybody.

I just love that as the imagine spot goes on eaten!Gwen gets more and more tired of the whole situation, ending with her kicking back and reading a book inside the ghost. He doesn’t half know his cousin, does he?

Also confirmation Ben knows he can’t go Wildvine or Overflow.

Gwen is very good at this ghost prank thing, though Ben does make it very easy. And the reveal the ghost is Gwen is where we leave off on this portion. Only one more clip to go and that seems to cover most of the rest of Kevin’s existence in this episode.

(Random, did y’all know CN Aus has the whole of Escape from Aggregor up on youtube? I’m not gonna liveblog it because I already did a few years back, but in case y’all wanna watch it, it’s there.)

We begin this next section with a Ben and a Gwen and a hedgemaze.

Ben has been eaten by the hedgemaze, it’s Rose Red all over again.

And Ben is panicking, not helped by Kevin taking full advantage of his fear of ghosts to be all eerie voice from out of sight. Because this child.

“Gwen is that you again?” Ben asks of the very Kevin voice. Like seriously, this kid isn’t even trying to hide it’s him. It’s wonderful.

Oh look, it’s, Thornblade I think? Kev’s Wildvine equivalent? Taking full advantage of location. I’m going to assume Kevin watches a lot of horror movies because he’s playing it well so far.

Dodging blows being thrown at you from the hedges right up until Thornblade forms himself out of vines in front of you while you weren’t looking.

Nobody would’ve expected Ben to be happy to see Kevin, but Kevin he can at least fight, unlike a ghost.

I admit, the way that was going, I was expecting the argument to devolve into yeah-huhs and nuh-uhs. Don’t know whether I’m sad or not that it didn’t. Although Ben claiming he’s fought houseplants badder than Thornblade is both hilarious and stupid given he is in Thornblade’s clutches at the time.

Ben goes Four Arms, surprising Kevin which I wasn’t expecting. But then Ben gets to be surprised when he knocks Kev over a hedge and it look like he times out, only for sudden- Undertow was it? Eh, I’ll probs find out in a second.

Ooo, nice use of the water powers, focusing on the ground so he can trap Ben in mud.

Okay, now Kevin is just showing off. ‘Look at what I’ve got and can do’. Seriously, Kev, 1) how did you get these aliens, and 2) stick with a shape child. What did you just add this feature? Oh my gods that’s exactly what’s happening isn’t it? You added the switching feature like, yesterday, and are having too much fun testing it out.

Okay, can I just say I really love Dark Matter’s design? Just, we went from a smol frog with no physical capabilities to speak of to balance out the brains, to an actual fucking horror movie monster with brawn as well. And I mean it, look at Dark Matter and how Kevin moves as him, that wouldn’t be out of place in something like Alien or Pumpkinhead.

Seriously, Dark Matter just, kicks ass. Never was big on Grey Matter but this is a frog I can stan.

Seriously those movements are just, exquisite. Also the crystal power? I don’t know what the fuck that red crystal he caused to overtake Ben is or how he managed it as Dark Matter, but it’s cool at fits the horror movie aesthetic.

Trying getting Kevin to monologue for those last few seconds before his watch times out. Not that it works, but it was a valiant attempt.

Not that it mattered anyway because it was literally seconds left. Also the look on Kevin’s face when he realizes he’s timed out and Ben is still Four Arms- you can hear the ‘fuckfuckfuckfuck’ going through his little head.

Exit, stage right, pursued by alien.

Ben, having timed out: Alright Kevin, it’s time to ask question and get answers, and I’m all out of answers. Kevin: This boy is a moron

(I know that’s not the line but still.)

Also immediately reminding Ben that in their normal forms he is bigger, smarter, and stronger. Which is true on all counts, given Kev is apparently a tech whiz and definitely older than Ben is.

And teasing Ben for being scared of ghosts just before they both get jumpscared by an inanimate object, the bear statue sending them both fucking bolting, complete with screams.

And Kevin tumbles through a hedge, poorly, just in time for his watch to time back in and an ominous shadow to appear over him.

Forever Knight is here and complimenting Kev. Apparently he ‘shows promise’ (on this we can agree). Kevin, meanwhile, responds to a stranger in full armor appearing out of nowhere and striking up conversation with glares and mild sass.

And while the Forever Knight is touting that old-ass ‘work with me and we shall crush our enemies’ line Kevin has walked away, scoffed at him, shut him down, and called him a nerd and a creep. I’m so proud of my child, he’s a shit but he’s so good.

Willy is gonna miss the fam, though the kids were a delight, Max was a big help.

Willy gives Gwen an antique family heirloom music box as a parting gift, because some people are cool like that. Ben gets forgiveness for all the damage he caused. And Max gets some quality tea to help him chillax after what was apparently the worst day of cleaning ever to look at him.

And we end on Willy having just gotten some contractors in to patch the place up. Good on her. There’s more to the episode but, well. Bits & pieces.

#ben 10 2.os

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wedreamedlove · 5 years

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[FIC] Run, Rabbit, Run (5/6)

Rating: Explicit Characters: Yamada Jiro/Iruma Jyuto Word Count: 8222

Summary: “A hound and a rabbit; the outcome’s clear.” “Aah, this is why delinquency doesn’t pay off. Didn’t you know? In all the fables involving a rabbit and a hound, the rabbit always wins.”

AO3 | Index: PAGE 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Jiro woke up alone in bed.

He shot up, looking around warily, but there was no sight of Jyuto. Instead, sunlight was streaming into the room, indicating that it was some time past noon, and in all this light the softness and strangeness of the night before was gone like a dream. Jiro immediately clambered out of the bed as if he would catch something if he remained under the blanket a second longer.

… Wait. Under the blanket?

If he remembered correctly, he had bundled that blanket up and placed it in the middle of the bed to act as a divider. And then, during the night, Jyuto somehow ended up on his side and… hugged him for the rest of the night. That was definitely on purpose, right? A normal person wouldn’t just roll over a divider in their sleep to hug another person at the other side of the bed. The muscles in Jiro’s face spasmed at this thought, unsure of what expression he was supposed to make.

Right, anyway, putting that aside, neither of them had been under the blanket last night. Meaning Jyuto… covered him in the morning? Before the cop left for work?

Jiro’s face twitched again. Then he pinched himself.

Realizing he wasn’t dreaming when his arm smarted in pain, Jiro decided to throw this whole train of thought out. He wouldn’t get anything for contemplating this and he didn’t want to think about Jyuto any more than what was necessary. Besides, there was something more important to think about. Today marked his fourth day and night here, which meant he would get to go home tomorrow. Finally.

The time he spent here felt at once both long and short. So many things had happened and yet, when he looked back, it was only a few events. Most of the time, like today, he would spend hours alone before seeing Jyuto again.

… Not that he wanted to see Mad Trigger Crew’s 45 Rabbit. In fact, it would be best if he didn’t see the dirty cop until it was the next day.

Jiro didn’t know how he should look at Jyuto after last night. He decided he was going to ignore everything that had happened unless the other man brought it up, in which case he would point out that it was Jyuto who had been all needy and wanted him to stay.

Having settled his conflict, Jiro stretched comfortably and felt how his body was much better compared to yesterday. His injury barely hurt - it was just a dull pain - and his fever was gone.

Jiro nodded to himself. It was a clear day, he felt great, and he was going home tomorrow. He decided to grab some brunch outside, come back to organize his things, and then all that would be left to do was to wait for the next day to arrive.

—————

It was late. Extremely late.

Jiro had long finished dinner and his internal clock told him Jyuto should have returned by now but there was no sign or sound of the cop. Did his wish from this morning actually work? Was he not going to see the other man until the next day?

Unsure of how he felt about that, Jiro was about to complete his seventh lap of wandering around the living room when he heard a commotion outside the apartment in the hall. Jiro dashed to the front door and strained his ears. He could hear… Jyuto’s voice? And someone else.

“Jyuto, will you be alright?” The stranger sounded middle-aged.

“Yes, now stop bothering me and go home.”

“It’s unusual to see you make a mistake like that. Are you sure you’ll be fine? I think I should—”

“Go. Home.” Jyuto’s voice was cold.

“… Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

Jiro listened to the extra pair of footsteps reluctantly move away from the door and head down the hall to leave the apartment complex while he wracked his brain over the contents of their conversation. There was no movement in front of the door for a while, as if Jyuto was watching to make sure the other person left, before the door was finally opened.

Instantly, Jiro smelled something strange in the air.

On the other hand, Jyuto seemed to startle slightly when he saw Jiro standing right beside the door. The slumped line in the cop’s shoulders disappeared when he straightened and dropped his right hand, which had been holding his left shoulder. Jyuto showed a sarcastic smile.

“Oh? Were you waiting here for my return like a good dog?” He reached out like he was going to pet Jiro’s head and Jiro scrambled backwards to avoid it.

“Fuck off!”

Jiro kept his hands free and his guard up as he glared, but the other man just snickered. However, it struck Jiro on how weird it was for Jyuto not to do anything more than that. Nothing seemed out of place though when Jiro examined the other man.

“Who was that?” Jiro eventually asked to break the silence.

Jyuto’s smirk looked tired as he turned away to remove his shoes. “Jealous?”

“What!? NO! Why would I be jealous?” Jiro spluttered, “Fine, don’t tell me. I was just ask—”

“I don’t know.”

Jiro blinked, taken aback. “Huh? You don’t know… who he is? He isn’t a coworker?”

“Certainly, he’s a police officer,” Jyuto said calmly while he stepped around Jiro to walk deeper into the apartment, “But who knows if he’s an honest one or if he’s watching me on behalf of someone.”

“Watching you… Is that why you didn’t let him in?”

Jiro had just finished his sentence when Jyuto spun towards him, making Jiro yelp in surprise, and crowded him into the wall. Jyuto slammed his left hand beside Jiro’s head and brought his face uncomfortably close to Jiro’s. The green eyes that watched him were turbid and Jiro couldn’t help but think of a clear pool that had been stirred, bringing up mud from the bottom.

“Did you want to be seen? Perhaps to report to an officer on how you’re being confined here against your will?”

Jiro pressed his head back as far as he could to put more space between them. “No, I already agreed to your stupid deal to stay. Which, by the way, ends tomorrow in case you forgot. I’ve kept my side, so you better keep yours.”

Jyuto’s mocking smile twisted as he snorted, “I will.”

Jiro forced himself to be unresponsive when Jyuto’s breath brushed over him at those words. And then the other man’s looming presence disappeared when he stepped back and turned to head into the bathroom, closing the door with a flick of his wrist. It was only when Jyuto left the room that Jiro realized the scent he had smelled earlier also faded a little.

… What was it?

Jiro furrowed his eyebrows, wracking his brain over the familiarity of the smell, until he heard something clatter on the ground in the bathroom, followed by a muffled curse.

“Jyuto?” Jiro called out reflexively, startled.

“… What.” The response was clipped.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

There was a sense of déjà vu at their conversation; in fact, a similar conversation had happened earlier in the hall between Jyuto and the other cop. The instant Jiro realized this it was like a switch flipped in his head. He knew what the smell was now and why it was so familiar.

“Are you decent?” Jiro asked.

“If I said I wasn’t?” Jyuto’s voice was colored in his usual sarcastic tone.

However, that sentence was barely finished before Jiro twisted the doorknob to the bathroom and entered.

Jyuto’s eyes widened at Jiro’s entrance before he quickly schooled his face into a blank slate. “How forward of you to just storm in. What would you have done if I wasn’t decent?”

“You wouldn’t have answered like that if you weren’t actually decent,” Jiro replied distractedly. The moment he entered he saw that Jyuto had stripped himself of his jacket and shirt, leaving his chest bare, and was sitting halfway on the counter. But the other man’s state of undress was far from Jiro’s mind because his eyes were on the bleeding gash in Jyuto’s right shoulder, which was reflected in the bathroom mirror. The thing he had smelled earlier at the front door and when Jyuto had been close to him was the iron tang of blood. “You’re hurt.”

“An astute observation,” Jyuto said with boredom.

“Shut up,” Jiro retorted, “and give me that. You can’t reach it properly and you’re making it worse.”

Jyuto lowered the damp hand towel he had in his left hand. “Are you offering to help?”

“Obvi—” Jiro started to answer automatically, but then he cut himself off. He realized, abruptly, just what he was about to do. Last night, he had justified waking Jyuto to himself because he was reminded of Ichiro’s nightmares. But… what about now? Now when it wasn’t that strange and hazy time past midnight. Now when they were both wide awake and under the bright lights of the bathroom.

Jyuto watched him, motionless.

“… Obviously,” Jiro finally said. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Under the bed,” Jyuto answered slowly, appearing not to have expected Jiro to actually help.

Jiro left the bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit before returning to set it down beside the counter, which Jyuto had hoisted himself up to sit on. As Jiro popped open the first aid kit to grab what he needed he saw a watch on the ground and realized that it must have been what had fallen earlier and made all that noise. Jyuto probably knocked it down while trying to clean his wound, since his jacket and gloves were thrown on the counter at his side. Incidentally, the towel he had been using was now in the sink and Jiro could see that it was stained pink with blood.

Cloth soaked in antiseptic solution in hand, Jiro turned to Jyuto and hesitated before stepping between Jyuto’s legs. His eyes skimmed past Jyuto’s steady gaze on him to look at the reflection of the other man’s injury in the mirror. The cut wasn’t as deep as Jiro expected and it must have just bled a lot on Jyuto’s way home; but still, it was probably safer to clean and cover it.

“Lean forward a bit.” They were close to the same height, so it wasn’t too difficult for Jiro to reach Jyuto’s shoulder but he wanted a closer look at the injury to properly treat it.

However, Jiro’s thoughts stuttered when Jyuto listened to him and leaned forward, bringing his head to the point where he was almost resting it on Jiro’s shoulder. The other man wasn’t actually touching Jiro and both his hands were holding the edge of the counter, but Jiro could feel Jyuto’s warmth and breaths at this distance.

He swallowed inaudibly and shoved that awareness out of his mind before he warned Jyuto in a steady voice. “This is going to sting.”

An exhalation past the crook of Jiro’s neck was the only acknowledgment he received. Jiro pressed the cloth down against the cut and immediately he felt the muscles underneath his hand tense, bringing the tattooed flowers on Jyuto’s shoulder into stark definition. Jiro winced in sympathy, remembering the stinging sensation he had experienced himself just the other day, and so before he knew it he found himself opening his mouth to distract the other man from being treated.

“How’d you get this?”

“… A lack of attention.” There was a thread of exhaustion in Jyuto’s voice.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to just admit that.”

“Aren’t you clearly treating the injury I received?” Jyuto said with slight impatience.

Jiro laughed quietly, somehow realizing that Jyuto meant there was no point in dodging the question when he was obviously hurt, and then he searched for something else to ask. “Do you normally get hurt on the job?”

There was a pause and then Jyuto asked, “Is that concern I hear?” The mocking was clear.

“I’m just making conversation,” Jyuto said, sullen.

“To distract me? You’re being quite charitable today.”

Here Jyuto actually dropped his head to rest his chin on Jiro’s shoulder, making him tense immediately. Jiro shrugged his shoulder to dislodge the other man’s head. “I’m just being a decent person. Unlike someone.”

Jiro ignored Jyuto’s snort and reached over to grab adhesive gauze from the first aid kit. However, he must have brushed against the jacket that was set on the counter, because it slid off and fell to the ground. At the same time, two pins clattered out from the jacket. There was a large red pin with a “B” and a smaller blue one with a “M”.

Instantly, it was as if the somewhat calm air between the two men froze and became taut with tension.

Jiro stopped moving, hands on the adhesive gauze in the kit but his eyes were on his pins. He glanced at Jyuto just in time to see the other man look away from the pins to Jiro; the muscles in Jyuto’s arms rippled when he squeezed down on the countertop he was holding before he seemed to force himself to relax and sit back, releasing his hold on the edge of the counter, and adopting a pretense of indifference.

Those green eyes seemed to ask Jiro what he was going to do. Those pins were what kept Jiro here in this place and now they were right in front of him. From Jyuto’s loose posture, it didn’t look like the cop was going to stop Jiro if he moved to grab them. Not to mention the other man was injured and tired. In fact, didn’t this seem like the best opportunity for him to make a break for it?

Jiro looked at pins again, his legs tensing with the desire to move, before he looked back at Jyuto’s blank face.

Was he going to run? Or…

Jiro lowered his head and his fingers twitched against the adhesive gauze before he grabbed it firmly and brought it between them. He calmly looked up at Jyuto and said evenly, “Come here so I can slap this on.”

Jyuto stared at him searchingly before asking, “You aren’t going to grab those?”

“… It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair…” The cop echoed before a sneer appeared on his face. “Is that something you learned from Ichiro? Fairness? In this world?”

“First, I’m not going to run when I’m this close to the end. Second, my brother is always right. Third, you’re a real pessimist, you know?” Jiro snapped back.

Jyuto narrowed his eyes. “It’s called being a realist. And that is rich coming from Ichiro. Do you know what he did in the past? There’s a reason Samatoki calls him a hypocrite.”

“Shut the hell up about my brother. You don’t know anything.”

“And you do? Does he ever talk about his past, especially with The Dirty Dawg? A team doesn’t become legendary and stand at the top without sacrifices.”

It was that hateful and contemptuous smile again. Jiro wanted to wipe it off Jyuto’s face. The dirty cop didn’t know anything about Ichiro. Jiro himself knew there were things Ichiro did that Ichiro wasn’t proud of and wouldn’t ever talk about. Weren’t his brother’s nightmares proof of that? But what did that matter when Ichiro was now living with his current beliefs? Jyuto didn’t know shit about his brother. There was no one who understood Ichiro more than Jiro and Saburo, and that was why they were the indomitable Buster Bros.

However, there was a part of Jiro that was also frustrated at Jyuto’s view of the world. He couldn’t understand it. It was like Jyuto only cared about survival. As if the other man would do whatever it took to survive, including using the most cowardly of methods. He expected the worst of everyone because he himself was the worst. What kind of life was that? Jiro couldn’t understand it at all.

It was this build up of frustration, indignation, and awareness of Jyuto as someone more than just Mad Trigger Crew’s 45 Rabbit that made Jiro do his next insane action, which was to drop the adhesive gauze and grab the other man’s shoulder to drag him into a kiss.

The lips underneath his froze and then the derisive smile disappeared.

Jiro felt Jyuto grab the back of his hair and pull him back hard. Hard enough to separate their lips. Not hard enough to bring them more than inches from each other, breaths mingling.

The green eyes that stared at him were dark and Jyuto’s voice was low. “Don’t cross a line you aren’t capable of paying.”

“Once I decide to do something, I don’t go back on it,” Jiro shot back.

Jyuto’s eyes flickered and then he smiled. “So you’ve said.”

And then Jiro was yanked into a kiss and devoured.

The lips on Jiro’s moved aggressively, measuring and tasting him, and then before he could catch up Jyuto’s tongue pried into his mouth and claimed everything it stroked against. Jiro felt like he swallowed a whip of fire with the way burning streaks of pleasure raced through his body from his mouth every time Jyuto’s tongue moved, and so Jiro automatically took a step back, opening his mouth wider and pushing against Jyuto’s tongue with his own to force it out.

However, Jyuto followed him without breaking a stride and slipped off the counter, while angling their heads for a deeper kiss, to press Jiro into the wall on the other side. The bathroom was only so large, after all. At the same time, Jyuto’s tongue wrapped around Jiro’s and pulled it back into his own mouth to suck on it, hard. Jiro’s legs buckled at the molten heat that poured down his spine and he would have knocked his head against the wall were it not for the hand that cupped the back of his head to absorb the impact. Jyuto’s tongue quickly released Jiro’s before slipping back into Jiro’s mouth to map it and caress the roof of it.

Jiro clutched onto the other man, digging his fingers into bare shoulders, and moaned.

From the lack of distance between them and their lips, Jiro could feel Jyuto swallow his moan before the cop pulled back slightly, a trail of saliva connecting their lips, and looked at him with a satisfied expression that made Jiro reflexively bristle.

“Do you know what you look like right now? What would your dear brothers say?”

It was like someone threw a bucket of arctic water on Jiro and the ball of warmth in his stomach was doused and replaced with ice. Jiro wasn’t too hurt by those words, because he already decided that he wouldn’t let whatever was between him and Jyuto affect the rivalry between Buster Bros and Mad Trigger Crew. That being said, it wasn’t like there was a complete absence of guilt, confusion, and conflict at his own impulses. And, above all, was the reminder that this was Jyuto in his entirety. Someone who got off on humiliation. This thing - whatever it was - between them was never going to be peaceful. Jyuto was always going to needle him whenever given an opportunity.

“Fuck off,” Jiro snarled, breathless but also dangerously low. He went to shove the other man so he could storm out of the bathroom, but Jyuto grabbed his arm in a bruising grip and tugged him around to shove him up against the bathroom mirror. Jiro had to catch himself with a hand on the counter and a hand on the mirror to stop from crashing into it.

“It’s said that Ikebukuro’s three brothers share the same eye color. But from here it looks more like you share mine.”

Jiro growled in wordless objection and struggled against the weight that was dropped on him when Jyuto pressed his chest to his spine. But it was useless. Their legs were a tangled mess and Jiro was the one whose hips were trapped underneath Jyuto. He couldn’t get any leverage and had to resort to shaking his head wildly to try and dislodge the heated voice that slid into his ear.

Then a hand slid up to clutch Jiro’s hair and jerk his head back, making him face the mirror. Another hand rose to cover Jiro’s right eye, leaving only his left eye to look at his and Jyuto’s reflections shown in the mirror.

Beside his single green eye was a pair of green eyes. However, it was as if the black dilated pupils in those eyes were spilling out into the ring of green around them, dragging the color down to an ocean-green trench of unknowable depths.

“Are you colorblind?” Jiro squeezed out, feeling a strain at the uncomfortable position his neck was in. “They’re not similar at all.”

Those dark ocean-green eyes slid over to look at him, not the reflection. “Mm, you’re right. Yours has to be darker and I know exactly what it needs.”

“What are—mmph!”

Two fingers jammed into his mouth, sinking to the knuckle, and Jiro gagged while closing his lips tightly around them in reflex. It might have been his imagination that he heard a strangled “fuck” slip out from Jyuto. But then he couldn’t think about anything at all when the fingers between his lips moved and manhandled the inside of his mouth.

Jiro couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but the sensation of the digits in his mouth sliding across his teeth, stroking the top of his mouth, and caressing the underside of his tongue sent shivers up and down his spine. Jiro could feel himself getting hard. And then his tongue was sandwiched between the two fingers and tugged on lightly and it was like bolts of lightning fired through his body.

A wordless shout was choked out as Jiro bucked back into the man behind him. His mind was a roaring tide of white and Jiro swore he saw explosions behind his eyes as they slammed shut at the sheer wave of heat that erupted from within him.

It took a few seconds for Jiro to regain his presence of mind again and to realize the heavy pants he was hearing was his own.

“Yes, just like that. This color.” Jyuto’s voice was a low throb in Jiro’s ear.

Jiro looked at their reflections in the mirror again through a haze. The three green eyes that stared back were now darkened in the same shade of pleasure. Next, Jiro moved his eyes to himself and saw how his cheeks were flushed and how his hair was matted with sweat. There was a trail of spit from the corner of Jiro’s mouth as Jyuto slowly slid his fingers in and out of that mouth, mimicking the slow thrusts of his pelvis against Jiro’s backside.

From the mirror Jiro could see Jyuto staring at their reflections as well, eyes half-mast with enjoyment. The prominent hardness against his ass and the ragged breathing beside his ear was a sign of just how much the other man was getting off on this. And, fuck, so was Jiro. He was painfully hard.

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the motion made him suck a little at the fingers in his mouth. Jyuto’s breath hitched before he removed the hand covering Jiro’s eye down to firmly grip Jiro’s member.

“Don’t look away from the mirror,” Jyuto said hoarsely.

Jiro shuddered, the stimulation of Jyuto’s touch setting his nerves aflame, but he still tried to shake his head.

“Stubborn even at this point?” The other man laughed softly and then started to stroke Jiro through his pants.

Jiro desperately tried to fight the whine of pleasure building up in his throat. He sucked hard on the fingers in his mouth in an attempt to distract himself and to throw Jyuto off his game, but the more he sucked the harder Jyuto touched him and it was a feedback loop that spiraled straight down into debauchery.

Still, he slid his tongue along the fingers in his mouth, tracing them, and a small part of Jiro’s mind noted how slender Jyuto’s fingers seemed to be. He felt like he knew why Jyuto wore gloves all the time now. Jiro swallowed the digits deeper, having gotten used to their length, and flicked his tongue against the thin and sensitive skin between them.

It was unexpected how open Jyuto was about vocalizing his pleasure, but Jiro wasn’t complaining because as he listened to the stuttered breathing beside his ear and the following low groan it was like an injection of satisfaction straight down into his crotch.

Jiro received a sharp nip to his ear in reprimand for his unconscious smirk before Jyuto soothed it with a burning tongue, which moved to caressing Jiro’s ear, and increased the pace of his hand which was rubbing Jiro.

At this point Jiro couldn’t hold back the full-body shudder and the growing pressure in his body that forced him to close his eyes; his vision was blurred from pleasure or tears of pleasure and had narrowed down to two pinpricks of green. He couldn’t even continue to suck on the fingers in his mouth anymore, too occupied with gulping down air to try and relieve the tightening coil inside him.

It was like there was lightning coursing underneath his skin and he was just a raw bundle of nerves, facing too much stimulation.

Hot, damp breaths brushed against Jiro’s ear.

Fingers thrust in and out of his mouth, sliding against his tongue.

The sound of clothes rubbing against each other resounded loudly in the small bathroom.

There was a hard pressure against Jiro’s ass that pressed him domineeringly down into the counter.

The hand that gripped him between his legs and stroked him was just right.

“Are you going to come?” It was said on a soft exhale.

Jiro nodded up and down.

“Open your eyes then.”

He did so, dazed and flushed.

“Now open your mouth.” It was said in a croon.

Jiro didn’t even realize he had closed it. He relaxed his jaw and parted his lips—

And the fingers in there pinched his tongue and yanked it out; the electric shock of that pain, combined with the sight of his captive tongue, made Jiro’s mind explode into a roaring flood of white. He came with an unintelligible noise and jerked involuntarily into the counter. Jiro didn’t even feel it when he dropped his head and knocked it against the mirror because pleasure was squeezing his entire body in waves, making his muscles spasm. He clawed unconsciously at whatever surface was underneath his fingers.

Dimly, Jiro thought he felt something damp against his bottom as Jyuto buried his head into the crook of Jiro’s shoulder and shuddered. The sudden increase of weight on Jiro made his shaky arms give in, collapsing him fully against the mirror and counter.

For a while there was only rough breathing in the bathroom.

Finally, Jyuto seemed to pull himself together enough to remove his weight from Jiro and take a step back. Jiro raised his head sluggishly to look at Jyuto through the mirror and, as the other man surveyed him, Jiro took this time to scan him too.

There was a light flush and sheen of sweat on Jyuto’s bare chest, which rose and fell with his heavy breathing, and Jiro watched as a trickle of sweat slid from the man’s collarbone down past his sternum and abs to disappear into the waist of his pants. However, his eyes were drawn instantly to Jyuto’s hand when the man raised it to comb back his own damp hair, pushing the bangs out of the way to reveal satiated green eyes.

Jiro swallowed.

But then Jyuto spoke after his breathing steadied, “Get out. I’m going to take a shower now.”

“… Wait, that’s it?” Jiro was so surprised he blurted this out before his mind caught up.

Jyuto’s eyebrows shot up and the slow smile that appeared was all sorts of dangerous. “Did you want more?”

Jiro spluttered, alternating between embarrassment, morbid curiosity, and a reflexive denial. He turned around to properly face Jyuto.

But Jyuto spared Jiro from answering. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“I can handle anything!” Jiro automatically shot back, “Or can you not get it up again?” He cast an obvious look down at Jyuto’s crotch. But, to be honest though, Jiro was bluffing because he had no experience… with any gender. He clenched his hands into fists to hide his nervousness.

The cop eyed him for a second in silence and then the next thing Jiro knew was that he was thrown over Jyuto’s shoulder.

“What the hell!? Put me down!” Jiro flailed.

“Stop moving before you open the injury you spent all that time treating.”

Jiro froze when he felt a prick of pain. Did Jyuto just pinch his ass!?

It was only when they were right beside the bed, after entering Jyuto’s bedroom, that Jiro came back to himself in time to reach down and pinch Jyuto’s ass back in retaliation.

“……”

Jiro was tossed unceremoniously onto the bed. He grunted at the impact and only managed to get his elbows underneath him to raise his upper body before Jyuto climbed over him and dropped his weight down, knocking Jiro back onto the bed and giving him a bruising kiss.

Jyuto’s tongue dove into Jiro’s mouth and swept through inside before wrapping around and stroking Jiro’s tongue, making Jiro’s toes curl into the bed from the sparks of lightning that zipped down his spine. Jiro reflexively grabbed the back of Jyuto’s neck to pull the other man down for a deeper kiss. But he found that Jyuto didn’t budge an inch when he tried that. In fact, Jyuto even retreated a little at his action.

Jiro arched his back, using his hand on Jyuto’s neck to pull himself up, to chase after the heat of Jyuto’s mouth.

However, Jyuto only feathered his lips against Jiro’s before he placed a hand on Jiro’s shoulder - the other one supporting the cop’s weight on the bed - and pressed Jiro down.

“Patience.”

The lilt of amusement in Jyuto’s voice was enough to make Jiro growl and grab the other man’s shoulders with both hands, digging his fingers into the tattooed skin, to try and drag him into another kiss. But, again, it was only a light caress. Either Jyuto was immovable or he would hold Jiro down whenever he got too close, not letting Jiro further any of their kisses.

Jiro’s breathing grew heavier as he strained against the pressure on him before he finally let himself flop backwards on the bed, glaring up at Jyuto with wronged eyes.

Jyuto’s smile deepened and, as if to reward Jiro for settling down, he leaned down to swipe his tongue against Jiro’s lips. The older man captured Jiro’s bottom lip between his lips, rubbing and sucking at them slowly. Jiro groaned and automatically surged forth to catch more of that intoxicating feeling.

But Jyuto released his lips and moved back immediately, leaving Jiro with a pile of growing frustration. He squirmed underneath Jyuto and flexed his fingers that were still on Jyuto’s shoulders, clawing at them in a show of displeasure. Jyuto remained unruffled though and waited for Jiro to give up and settle down again before he leaned down and resumed kissing him.

This happened for a few more cycles until Jiro caught on and learned to stay within the limits Jyuto set. He felt like he should have been more pissed at having to follow Jyuto’s rules like this, but there was a fog of pleasure in his mind and his thoughts were far away and muddled. The feverish frenzy that had been the mood in the bathroom and at the beginning here had turned into a liquid warmth that seemed to pool in every inch of Jiro’s body, making him feel boneless.

Yet, at the same time, Jiro felt like his entire body was one exposed nerve and every breath, every languid kiss, every stroke of a tongue, and every pass of Jyuto’s bare hands on his skin was like an impact that exploded against Jiro’s senses. The other man’s touch wasn’t gentle; in fact, it was heavy enough for Jiro to feel the distinctive shape of the bones and tendons in Jyuto’s hands, as if he was ensuring Jiro wouldn’t forget his touch even long after this.

Jiro trembled.

He hadn’t stopped trembling since a while ago.

Lips were slanted over Jiro’s mouth again and he opened his mouth eagerly, accepting the burning hot tongue that seared him from the inside out. Obscene, wet noises echoed in the quiet room, broken only by their rough breathing. As saliva was passed between them, sometimes Jyuto would smooth his hand down Jiro’s throat, making him swallow their exchange, or it would trail down from the corner of their sealed mouths and Jyuto would break their kiss to follow it with his lips, swiping it up with his tongue.

They kissed again… and again… and again…

Hands stroked up and down Jiro’s arms, brushed past his shoulders and collarbones, slid down his sides then underneath the hem of his shirt before moving up, pulling the shirt up along with them. And then palms dragged against his nipples.

Jiro arched his back and wrenched his head to the side, freeing his mouth to gasp loudly for air. In response, Jyuto nonchalantly shifted his lips down the side of Jiro’s jaw, tasting his neck and swirling his tongue around the hollow of Jiro’s throat.

Jiro’s hands shook violently on Jyuto’s shoulders as his arms grew limp from the pleasure robbing him of any strength. But as his hands slipped down Jyuto’s shoulders he felt something damp against his palms. Jiro cracked open his eyes that he didn’t realize he had even closed and turned his head back to look at Jyuto only to see streaks of red trickling down one of his arms. Jyuto’s left arm to be precise. The one with the injury.

The wound must have opened partially again because of their activities and the motion of Jyuto’s arms. Jiro also recalled, with a brief flash of guilt, that he had completely forgotten about the injury when he was gripping the other man’s shoulders.

“Wa… wait,” Jiro called for a pause, breathless. “You’re bleeding!”

“Mm?” Jyuto made a low, throaty noise of acknowledgment and Jiro shuddered at the sight of the man casting a look up from grazing his lips against Jiro’s stomach before Jyuto raised his head to follow Jiro’s attention to his bleeding arm. “Ah. That. It’s not a concern.”

“But—”

“If you have time to care about that then, clearly, I’m not working hard enough.” A wicked smile tugged at the corner of Jyuto’s lips.

And then Jyuto moved off Jiro, sat up, and made quick work of Jiro’s belt and his zipper. Before Jiro could even say anything or do anything, his pants and underwear were pulled down and his erection freed only to be gripped in a hand. Whatever Jiro could have said would have died in the strangled, wordless shout that came out of his mouth. It was like lightning struck his brain and the molten heat Jiro had grown so used to feeling in his body erupted all at once into a blistering hellfire. It felt like every cell in his body was vibrating from being stretched taut.

He threw his head back, unable to stop his hips from jerking into Jyuto’s hand at this onslaught of sensation. “Fuck!”

Jiro sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to try and give himself something to focus on, since his brain was threatening to scatter into pieces at the pleasure ricocheting through his body, and barely managed to lift his head to look at Jyuto. But he regretted it immediately when he saw the other man staring back at him with dark, fervid green eyes and unashamedly moving his hand up and down Jiro’s dick, slick already with pre-cum. Also, the blood that had been dribbling down Jyuto’s arm made its way to his wrist at last and, as the trickle of blood curled around the other man’s wrist, Jiro realized distractedly that red looked good on Jyuto. Really good. But it also highlighted Jyuto’s hand.

And that hand was just illegally sculpted.

Jiro didn’t think he had a hand fetish, but fuck if Jyuto didn’t have beautiful hands. He remembered thinking in the bathroom that Jyuto’s fingers were slender in his mouth but the sight of those long, lithe fingers now doing something like this was just—

“Shit… nrgh…!”

Jyuto raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Are you going to finish already? That’s quick.”

“Sh… mgh, shut up!” Jiro twisted his body against the bed, feeling himself get closer and closer to the brink.

“But, unfortunately, you see…” The cruel amusement Jiro was so used to seeing returned to Jyuto’s expression. “It’d be boring to have this end so early.”

Right as Jiro reached the edge, tilting over— a clamping pressure squeezed the base of Jiro’s length and Jiro cried out in pain and the sudden inability to release. His eyes watered immediately and he looked down, chest heaving, to see that Jyuto’s other hand was grabbing the base of his dick.

“Wh…” Jiro could barely get his words out. His tongue was heavy and his brain teetered between pleasure and pain.

“Beg,” Jyuto said.

“… What?” Jiro repeated more clearly, but his voice was hoarse.

“Beg me. Use that clever tongue of yours - what did you call it again? Michelangelo’s tongue? - to beg for release.”

“Ungh… ngh… f-fu… mrgh… fuck you…!”

“Mm, I believe that is what I am doing to you right now,” Jyuto remarked with amusement.

Jiro fisted his hands in the sheets of the bed, almost tearing them, when Jyuto increased the pace of his hand. Jiro turned his head to the side and buried his face into a pillow to muffle his moans. He dug his heels into the bed, the muscles in his legs shaking, as he fought between trying to shove his hips up to follow Jyuto’s hand or to try and keep his hips down to avoid the maddening torture.

Jiro’s dick was leaking endless pre-cum and there was a squelching, wet noise as Jyuto moved his hand up and down. His other hand remained an uncompromising vice around the base of Jiro’s length and prevented him from releasing.

Suddenly, Jyuto leaned forward and spoke in a rough voice. “Do you know what you look like right now? Shall I describe it? How your pants are down at your ankles and your shirt is pushed up to your neck. Or how there’s a dazed look on your flushed face and your eyes are blurry with tears. Are you going to beg yet?”

Jiro mindlessly shook his head, his mouth wide open with soundless gasps.

“No? Still so stubborn when you’re at my mercy… with your cock in my hand.”

The whine caught in the back of Jiro’s throat was ripped out from him by Jyuto’s words and the way the other man enunciated the plosives, making a sharp stop at the first “c” and then the “k”.

Jiro released one of his death grips on the bed sheet and slapped it over his own mouth. He also clamped his eyes shut, not wanting to see the way Jyuto watched him, intent and with dark eyes, as if he didn’t want to miss the second Jiro gave in. But, distantly, Jiro thought he could hear Jyuto’s ragged breathing. He couldn’t be sure though because the pounding of his own heart and the roaring of blood in his ears was deafening.

And then Jiro’s thoughts shattered into smithereens when the hand around his member slid to the top and rubbed fingers against his tip before they pressed down against the slit and scraped a nail, ever so slightly, across it. It was like a red-hot poker was inserted into Jiro’s spine and all he felt was an incandescent pain before it barely dimmed into a pleasure that throbbed hard.

Black dots bloomed in Jiro’s vision and his body quivered between those two agonizing states before he finally broke down. “Shit, fuck, please, goddammit, please, please, Jyuto. Please let me come.”

“Good boy.” The praise came from a guttural voice.

And then the pressure was released from his weeping erection.

Jiro wouldn’t ever admit to anyone that he lost consciousness in that moment. The seism of pleasure that tore through his mind churned all of his thoughts and senses into nothingness.

He came back to himself within seconds though, convulsing and feeling hot splashes on his stomach as the aftershocks of pleasure fired through his nerves. Jiro made a low, choked noise as his hips jerked uncontrollably. Finally, after a dozen or more seconds of staring up at the ceiling gasping for air and shuddering, Jiro had enough awareness to feel something brushing against his stomach.

Jiro looked down to see Jyuto cleaning him up with tissue. A strangled noise escaped from Jiro and he felt dizzy, not just from the afterglow but also because of the embarrassment that flooded through him.

Jyuto glanced up at him and smirked, “You took longer to come back than I expected. Was it that good?”

“S-shut up,” Jiro snapped defensively. He couldn’t look directly at Jyuto right now but, as his eyes darted around the room, he caught sight of Jyuto’s pants. There was no change from how it looked after they left the bathroom, except for the belt being undone, and once again Jiro didn’t think before he spoke. “Did you…?”

Jiro closed his mouth with a clack, managing to stop himself from completing that sentence. He didn’t need to know. He didn’t want to know.

The corners of Jyuto’s eyes crinkled. “You made quite a sight.”

But the dirty cop’s lips were curled in a way that conveyed his mocking and Jiro found himself bristling. Despite his humiliation and embarrassment though, there was also a disconcerting sense of pride. At that fact that Jyuto came just from watching him. All these emotions were such a befuddling balled up mess in Jiro’s chest that he didn’t know what to do other than toss an arm over his face, to hide it as much as he could, and groan.

“You’re horrible.” His ears were burning.

The sound of Jyuto’s smirk deepened. “I didn’t get that impression from you earlier.”

“……”

Reluctantly, Jiro had to admit that he had never come as hard as he did just then in his life. He pressed his arm harder against his face and gave a muffled groan. If it wouldn’t have looked childish, and if his legs weren’t still feeling like jello, Jiro would have kicked them against the bed.

“I’ll be taking that shower now.” There was a pause as Jyuto seemed to stretch and sigh with satisfaction. “Unless you still want more?”

Jiro didn’t need to look to know what kind of expression Jyuto had right now. “Don’t even come near me.”

There was soft laughter and then, unexpectedly, a hand ghosted gently through Jiro’s hair. It was so light Jiro would have thought he imagined it if he hadn’t lowered his arm in time to see Jyuto pull his hand back and get up from the bed to leave the room.

Jiro stared blankly at the empty doorway Jyuto disappeared through. It was only when Jiro heard the shower start that he flopped his head back onto the bed to look at the ceiling.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Jiro muttered out loud again, feeling as if just saying it in his head wasn’t enough. It was the perfect word to describe his current situation. He was fucked. He fucked Jyuto. Saburo was going to fucking kill him. Ichiro was going to fucking disown him. Ichiro had said that he would always be Jiro’s brother and that it didn’t matter what he did. But, no, Jiro was pretty sure that didn’t include screwing the enemy. He was so dead. And the most fucking ridiculous thing of it all was that Jiro couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

But, like he told Jyuto before, Jiro never went back on his actions. He had to admit to himself - especially after everything that just happened - that he was attracted to the dirty cop. However, this didn’t change anything between them. He was still the MC.M.B of Buster Bros and Jyuto was the 45 Rabbit of Mad Trigger Crew. Nothing could change.

Jiro exhaled heavily and scrubbed his hands over his face before he finished tidying himself up and finally got off from the bed. His legs wobbled when he stood on them for the first time in a while and he was glad no one was in the room to see that.

He left the bedroom and grabbed some clothes from his duffel bag just as Jyuto finished showering. And, when the other man came out, Jiro tried to act as natural as possible while keeping a measured distance between them, slipping past Jyuto into the bathroom for his own shower.

If Jyuto noticed the careful space left between them then he was choosing not to say anything.

—————

Jiro finished his shower, feeling more like himself again, and headed straight to his couch. But he only just sat down and threw his bundled, dirty clothes onto his duffel bag before Jyuto appeared again from the bedroom in a shirt and sweatpants and came over to Jiro.

“I’m sleeping here tonight,” Jiro blurted out instantly, looking up with wary eyes.

“Is there somewhere else for you to sleep?” Jyuto raised an eyebrow, a smile playing by his lips. He continued before Jiro could respond though. “Your bandages need to be rewrapped.”

It was then that Jiro noticed the roll of bandages in Jyuto’s hand; he stamped out the blush that surged up at his misunderstanding. It was a natural mistake to make after everything that happened! At least, that’s what Jiro tried to tell himself.

“I can do it myself.”

Jyuto moved his hand away when Jiro tried to snatch the bandages. “Can you, with your squeamishness?”

At the other man’s words Jiro recalled his injury, which he had tried NOT to look at in the shower, and his back crawled at the memory of the ugly looking thing. Still… the thought of Jyuto’s touch on him again made Jiro hesitate, which Jyuto seemed to take as a continuation of Jiro’s contrariness.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Jyuto drawled.

“… Alright, alright.” Jiro balked immediately, having experienced what happened the last time Jyuto said that.

Jiro removed his shirt and grimaced when he felt the pull on his injury, though it was still just a dull pang. He then stared hard at the opposite wall as Jyuto kneeled down in front of the couch and began to wrap his side. This familiar scene couldn’t help but make Jiro think of yesterday, when the cop first treated his injury, and that actually reminded him of something.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“I took care of it already.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

Jiro ignored Jyuto’s short chuckle at his awkward words. After hearing that though, Jiro was able to set down the small prick of guilt he felt at having made Jyuto bleed. It was good that it wasn’t anything serious. He didn’t want to owe the dirty cop anything.

“Yours is healing fine as long as you don’t do anything reckless,” Jyuto told him and finished securing his bandages before Jyuto stood up. And then a mocking smile appeared. “Oh, by the way, I wasn’t going to invite you to my bed. But if you do get lonely here then feel free to join me.”

Jiro spluttered and this time he did turn red, although whether it was from embarrassment or anger was a mystery. It was probably a bit of both. Jiro shot to his feet, glaring at Jyuto, before he grabbed the other man’s collar and yanked him into a kiss. It was quick, rough, and messy since he didn’t want to give the dirty cop a chance to respond and, as Jiro withdrew, he bit Jyuto’s lip hard enough to sting.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s going to get lonely.” Jiro wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand, chest rising and falling.

“Most likely,” Jyuto admitted readily, eyes dark as he touched his thumb to the place Jiro bit, “But if I do I suppose I’ll have to come and find you.”

“There’s no room on the couch,” Jiro replied immediately and then dropped himself on the couch in a way that took up as much space as possible. Not that he needed to do that though, since he easily took up the entirety of the couch already.

Jyuto snorted with amusement before he turned to head back to his bedroom, tossing over his shoulder, “Good night, brat.”

“… Night.”

#hypnosis mic fanfic #hypmic fanfic #hypnosis mic #yamada jiro #jyuto iruma #series: run rabbit run

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xaz-fr · 6 years

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2. What Sharp Teeth

Anora wasn’t much better in the morning. If anything she was worse and running a fever. Relora cooed and clucked over her on the patio while Spayar saddled his horse. Anora was all bundled up in what was basically a blanket with arms but was still shivering like she was cold, her curly hair pinned back away from her face with silver hairpins in the shape of cats made by their father. Once his mare was ready he led her out of the shed. Relora frowned slightly even as she picked her daughter up and went over to Spayar. “She’s gonna be fine, addim,” Spayar assured her.

“You sure you still friends with this healer?” Relora asked nervously.

“Addim, you know her. It’s Mali.”

Relora looked confused, “She’s a healer? Since when?”

“It isn’t very common knowledge. She’ll make sure Anora gets fixed up.”

“Alright. You sure I shouldn’t come?” she asked even as Spayar pulled himself onto his mare’s high saddle.

“I know you both well enough to know that would be a bad idea,” Spayar apologized. “I’ll bring her back probably before it’s dark,” and he leaned down to take his baby sister from his mother. Relora still hesitated before transferring her to Spayar’s capable arms. With a grunt he put Anora in front of him on the saddle.

“Mama?” Anora asked when she realized through her fever she wasn’t with her anymore.

Relora went up to her on the saddle, the scars on her forehead twisted as her brow furrowed and she put her hand on Anora’s leg. “It’s okay cha-trime, your brother is taking you to go feel better.”

“Oh,” she said tiredly. She looked up at Spayar tiredly. “Oh.”

“Just go,” Relora said worriedly. She stepped back and wrung her hands.

“Mali will have her good as before in no time,” Spayar promised his mother and gently tugged on the reins to get his mare to turn. He heard Relora speaking Dirnine but didn’t catch the exact words as his mare walked out the gate. His mother closed it up behind him.

The ride from Bellringer to D’linger wasn’t exactly a short one and Spayar was grateful that before they’d even made it out of the neighborhood Anora had passed out leaning against his chest. They skirted the edge of Smoker’s Den, cutting through part of Tradesmen before finally entering D’linger with its nearly orderly streets with several creating clear sight lines to the Academy at the center of the neighborhood. Spayar got on one of the main avenues and followed it towards the Academy while carefully reading the building corners for the street he was looking for. When he found it he took it down a side street to another side street to a plain door of a small house. It wasn’t much to look at really.

With some effort Spayar got off his horse without dropping his sister and pulled her off. She woke as he gently put her on the ground. “Hey,” he said, squatting in front of her, “I need you to just stand here for a minute while I tie my horse up. Can you do that?” he asked her gently.

“Uh-huh,” and she sniffed looking like she was about to pass out at any moment again. Better than vomiting.

Spayar quickly pulled his mare down to the side of the house where a wooden beam had been installed for just such a thing. He tied the reins up around the cleat provided and went back to Anora. She reached up to be carried and he wasn’t so heartless to deny her. He scooped her up into his arms and walked the few steps from there to the front door where he knocked, rather loudly. He waited impatiently. He knocked again, practically bruising his knuckles.

The door was ripped open. “I heard you the first time! What?” demanded the annoyed healer.

“Hi, Mali,” he said cheerfully and used one of Anora’s sort of limp hands to wave at her. Mali was a good head shorter than him but you’d never know it because of how big her personality was. She was round all around with cunning brown eyes set in a soft face with cheeks that dimpled when she smiled. Her curly brown hair was pulled back into a horse tail high up on her head so you could see her slightly pointy D’linger ears. All of that was eclipsed by the fact that she was a healer, rare in itself, and was a powerful one at that. She didn’t even come from a healing family either.

“Oh, well look who it is,” Mali started out mean then glanced over him and to Anora. “Is that your sister?” her voice dropped a bit in concern.

“Yeah, she needs some help. She’s got a fever and is throwing up and in general is being gross and sick.”

Mali did look concerned before squinting at him suspiciously. “Is this your excuse to come see me?”

“What? She was sick when I got home. Who do you take me for?”

“Spayar Hillsman, d'aelar of Vondugard Le'Acard. I expect the worst, as I should,” she said nearly exasperated with him already and they’d said a handful of sentences to each other.

He made a fart noise with his mouth at her. “I wouldn’t use my baby sister as an excuse to come bother you. I’d just come bother you. Now you gonna help an old friend out or leave us out here?”

Mali made a face. “Alright, come in,” and she let him into the house. “Bring her into the ward,” she said and beckoned. He followed after her dutifully. “When did you get home?”

“Yesterday,” Spayar said. The ward was a large room that took up most of the building with beds arranged around it in a ring and were separated by wooden privacy screens.

“And Vondugard isn’t here glued to your side? I’m impressed.”

“He did his best but I excused myself. At least for a day,” Spayar said and set Anora down on the cot Mali indicated.

Mali turned away from him and put her hands on Anora’s face and throat. Her hands started to glow a soft, dark, light and Spayar could see the veins stand out against Mali’s skin like dangerous roots on her pale skin. “She’s just got the flu,” she said after a few seconds. “Bit of rest, a tonic, and a minor will be all she needs. What’s she aligned?”

“Solar,” Spayar said, arms crossed watching his sister with a serious face drawn.

“Good, so am I.”

“That’s why I bring her to you. The other healer I know is Lunar.”

Mali scoffed, “Lunar healers are half rate,” she moved away from Anora and went to a tall, circular, shelf in the middle of the room. She selected an earthen jug off one shelf, filled a shot glass, and put it back. She brought it back to Anora and woke her long enough to drink it. “If you feel sick again, dear,” she cooed gently to Anora as she pulled a bucket out from under the cot.

“Okay,” Anora said weakly, her face a bit green. Mali just gently stroked her hair, pushing her hair off her high forehead with a soft smile on her face.

“Try to get some rest. Your brother and I are going to talk.” Anora made a noise like she understood, looked at Spayar and then promptly passed out.

“She’ll be fine?” Spayar asked.

“By sunset she’ll be right as a strawberry,” Mali assured him.

“Good,” Spayar uncrossed his arms and followed Mali into her office which was also the home’s kitchen. There was a table there and Mali sat at it, pushed aside her papers, and made room for Spayar.

“So how was your time?”

“I ended up the apostle of an alchemist so you can imagine it was… something,” he huffed as he dropped himself into the chair opposite her.

“Yikes. Was bad?”

“Well I don’t have a gag reflex to vomiting so you tell me,” Spayar said.

“You had a gag reflex? That’s news to me,” Mali gave him a side eye and he had enough humility that he couldn’t meet her eyes at that and looked away awkwardly for a few moments.

“What’s happened while I was gone.”

“You got my updates didn’t you?”

“I did but it’s different hearing them in person.”

“Well… it’s all bad, more or less. Too much snow last year along the Spine, flooded the Meltong this spring, destroyed the Mire, part of Downriver, and Tradesman too.”

“Tradesman too? There’s levies there.”

“Not enough,” Mali shrugged. “They were so worried about Swan Island making it through the rising water. All geomancers were sent there to hold back the flood and flash floods that they couldn’t easily fortify the rest of the city.”

“That’s horse shit. Verilia just didn’t.”

Mali sucked her teeth but didn’t disagree with him. “Either way, the Mire’s still in shambles, Downriver is a bit better but hardly.”

“You been down there?” Spayar rocked the chair back a bit onto two legs. Mali gave him a withering look but he didn’t stop.

She waited to see if her glare would affect him. When it was clear it wouldn’t she gave him a slight roll of her eyes. “Shortly. I offered some healing to those who needed it but you know how people feel about healers. If they aren’t temple clerics they don’t want to even give you the time or are sure you’ll screw them up.”

“Hardly,” Spayar rocked a bit in the chair.

“Also destroyed a lot of fields around the city. Acres and and acres of farmland got covered in mud and detritus. It’s Asurala and they’re still trying to uncover some of the fields.”

“Sounds like a bureaucracy issue,” Spayar said mildly.

“It is. Verilia is worried. Teldin is in the city.”

Spayar stopped rocking and put the chair back down on all fours, “I heard. How long?”

“He’s been here since Soam,” Mali frowned. Soam was the third month of the year, early spring when crops were planted around Assarus.

“I wasn’t aware of this,” Spayar said with a serious slant of his mouth. “Any idea what he’s doing here?”

“Besides making Vondugard nervous? No idea. He could be keeping an eye on Tallasala and Obi. You know he thinks Vondugard is still a child.”

“He is,” Spayar said but hardly felt it.

“For now. It’s Neyjarra soon-

“Don’t remind me,” Spayar snapped. She just raised her hands at him in a placating manner. “Tallasala and Obi are both here? What about Dellin?”

“Haven’t heard from him in a long time. You’d have to ask someone else.”

Spayar didn’t like that answer but knew there was nothing for it. He’d have to ask Von about it. He’d know more than Mali for sure. “What else? The fields?”

“You’ll see soon enough I’m sure. People are starting to grab up all the food they can get and stockpiling. Theres going to be a shortage this year, maybe next year too. As it is you can’t easily get raw meat anywhere. It’s all being scooped up by others to make into things they can sell. If Verilia doesn’t do something people are going to start charging for raw.”

“Well that’s sort of illegal so I doubt it.”

“Depending on the state of the city I don’t think it will matter,” Mali said seriously.

Spayar frowned deeply at that. This was more than a little troubling. The last time there had been a food shortage in the capital had been seventy-five years ago. It hadn’t gotten to the point of charging to raw goods but that just highlighted how bad this was. “Vondugard says his mother is coming here.”

“She is? That’s probably not for the best. Teldin, Tallasala, and Verilia all under one roof? Sounds like a disaster” Mali said.

Spayar puffed his lips a little in annoyance and rubbed the side of his neck. “It’s a bother,” he muttered in agreement.

“You’re telling me. Everything is getting scarcer in Assarus in the last month and a half. Everyone is scared there’s going to be a shortage and we’ll not have enough food come Lun and Etirin.”

“Just import it? The rest of the country can’t be that bad off the other provinces can’t send food?”

“Way I hear it it’s been a bad year all over,” Mali said. “In the west there’s been heavy summer storms off the Shard. In the north no rain at all. East is fine but they hardly have any farm land themselves. South is just as worthless.”

“Yellow Hills area?”

“No idea. You’d have to ask. I just have general ideas. You know I hate getting specific with this stuff,” she scowled. “I’m not one of your birds, I’m a healer.”

“You’re right, I guess,” Spayar got up from the chair. “Speaking of I really need to go check in on them.”

“Figured. Was waiting for you to get out so I can get some work done.”

He grinned at her, “Don’t act like you weren’t happy to see me.”

“I missed you like a tooth ache,” she said and got up to show him out.

“Ah then that is quite serious,” he teased her and headed for the front door. She opened it for him. He paused a moment before leaning down to give her a hug, which he knew she only accepted because he hadn’t asked. “I am glad to see you again. I’ll come get Anora before it gets dark.”

“You better,” she said and finally let him go. He gave her one more squeeze before standing back up and going to untether his horse from the cleat. He waved after he mounted up and clicked to his mare to head towards South Garden nearly on the other side of town. At least he could go a bit faster without Anora sleeping in front of him.

—

Spayar was sitting on the lip of a fountain with a bag of seed feeding the birds for nearly a bell before someone came up and sat down next to him. They had a cup of cider in hand and wore patched clothing of someone who spent too much time wandering the streets and not enough time actually taking care of themselves. “Hey Bruta,” he said and leaned back from what he was doing.

“Didn’t think it was really you. Figured you were still serving time,” Bruta said.

“Just got back. Heard it’s bad down current.”

Bruta grimaced. “You could say. Mirebugs are hardy and the Downies are just happy to be in a better situation than them.”

“How much damage?”

“Nothing a good Asuras won’t help,” Bruta sucked his teeth and scratched at his stubble. “If you just got back you prolly ain’t heard.”

“Heard what?”

“The princes and princesses spoiling for a Conflict.”

Spayar didn’t show the way his heart jumped. He swallowed slowly to keep his cool. That was the last thing he wanted right now. That was the last thing anyone needed right now. After what Mali had told him a Feytol Conflict would be devastating to the entire country, let alone the capital. “Since when aren’t they?” he played it off.

Bruta shrugged. “Just what’s being said around. I know you like to hear the worries.”

“Because they’re usually true.”

“Yeah. Well, there you go.”

“Hear anything else good?”

“Notin’ timely I’m afraid,” Bruta said with a groan as he stretched a little. “Notin’ you prolly ain’t going to hear later either,” he scoffed.

“Yes but repetition beats it into my thick skull,” Spayar said and that made Bruta snort.

He shrugged. “Bread’s two bronze now. Beginning of the summer it was one, last summer it was a half.”

“Meat?”

“I don’t bother tryin’ to get it. The lady does but I know a fool’s errand when I see it.”

“I see. See you when you have anything else, Bruta.”

“Later little spider,” Bruta teased him and got up, leaving him.

Spayar threw out a handful more seed and the sparrows and pigeons pecked at it. He didn’t have to wait long for a lanky pick pocket to stand to the side and throw part of a potato skin into the mix. That got the birds going. “Was that really necessary, Jan?” he asked them.

“I like watching them fight,” Jan said, looking down at the birds. They turned their glass blue eyes at Spayar, eyes shiny being on something. If Spayar remembered correctly they liked red lace. Spayar had never gotten into that. “Where you been?” they spoke in monotone.

“I was serving time.”

“Missed you.”

Spayar’s lips twitched. “I doubt that.”

“Not as fun when d’aelar isn’t around.”

“So you’re saying nothing fun happened when I wasn’t around?”

“Flood,” Jan looked back at the birds. “Bugs and Downers rioted like the birds. Arm was called. Was bad.”

“How bad?”

“Half the Mire drowned, half of that got torched. There was an exodus.”

“How’s the hunt?”

Jan shrugged. “Good enough. New Lord takes less than-

“Wait, hold on. There’s a new Lord? Since when? What happened to Jackertty?” It didn’t bode well for the minor thieves and cutpurses of Assarus that there was a new ‘Thief Lord’. It was a paper title of course. The guards were vicious tracking down thieves and there was hardly a need to steal. Only the truly poor did.

“Last winter,” Jan’s voice hadn’t changed in tone the entire time. They didn’t even react to Spayar’s start. “Cross is Lord now.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Yeah. They’re from the west I heard.” They looked at Spayar with their glassy eyes. “They aren’t like Jackertty.” Which double sucked. Jackertty knew what he was. He was a minnow in a small pond in the garden with a dozen house cats. The last thing the city needed right now was some westerner from the mountains coming in and making a mess of things.

“You like ‘em?”

Jan shrugged. “What’s not to like.” That was it. They didn’t even say goodbye and Spayar watched them slowly wander away. Jan was such an infuriating person to talk to. Not even sometimes. They were frustrating always. The two years he’d been serving time hadn’t changed Jan for the better or changed Spayar’s feelings on them either.

Over the next few bells four more of his birds came by, chit chatted but didn’t give him much more information than what he’d already heard from Bruta, Jan, and Mali. He didn’t know what he was expecting but he was hopeful for something more than that. He supposed they didn’t know he was here yet and weren’t actually looking for information for him the way he liked it.

Closer to sunset, when he’d nearly run out of seed and even the actual birds were getting bored of him, a beggar came up to him and sat down heavily against the side of the fountain. Spayar gave them a more than cursory look. They were older and heavily bearded holding a earthen bowl with a few coppers in it and a single bronze atris. He didn’t recognize them right away. “I don’t have any coin on me-

“Don’t be a brat,” a woman’s voice said and looked at him from under a wig. The eyes he recognized.

“Channa?” he asked.

“Yeah, and?”

“Why are you dressed as a… male beggar?”

“Teldin’s paranoid, doesn’t like permanent servants coming and going,” she said. Channa was one of Spayar’s few actual contacts inside the Summer Palace. It was usually impossible for an outside agent to get into the web of spies of Aklin, the spy master. Unless you were part of the larger web or affiliated with a province the spies wanted nothing to do with you. Channa was one who gave Spayar any time at all.

“I would have waited,” he said.

“Maybe but I doubt your prince can,” she said, not looking at him now. She looked straight ahead and her fake beard was such you couldn’t see her mouth move other than the bob of her jaw now and then.

The hair stood up on the back of Spayar’s neck. “What’s wrong?”

“Teldin’s in the Palace, you haven’t heard?”

“I have.”

“Then you know it isn’t good.”

“You wouldn’t have come all the way out to South Garden if you didn’t have something better than that, Channa.”

She wordlessly held her bowl out to him. He gave her a disdainful look. She jingled the coins in it. “I can’t believe I’m being hit up for money by a royal servant,” he grumbled, took out his purse and put half a platinum into the bowl. She pulled the bowl back and tucked it under her shapeless clothing.

“When Teldin does come to the Winter Palace it’s alone, or briefly. This is neither. He’s got Yin Thorn and Sade Mandaria with him.” All of skin on Spayar’s arms prickled. “And he’s been here since Soam. It’s made Tallasala temperamental and Obi even more difficult to deal with than usual.”

Spayar rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How long has Sade been here?”

“She came with Teldin. They’ve been in the Palace for months.”

“Anything important you can tell me?”

“Teldin is pushing Tallasala’s buttons,” she said in a dangerous tone.

“What about Dellin? Anything about him?”

“He’s somewhere in the Hook last time I heard. Not sure where. He keeps to himself with that shadow of his.”

“I heard a rumor of a Feytol Conflict. How do you feel about that?”

Channa was quiet and looked up at the orange and pink sky. Around them South Garden was starting to pack up shop and close down for the night, everyone ready to go home or out to Smoker’s Den to party. “I dunno. We’ll see when Lun starts. Depends on how Assarus is. From what I’ve heard from — the castle quartermaster even the Palace is having trouble getting all the supplies they need without taking significantly from the general available food stuffs of the city. If the city starts to starve a Feytol Conflict might be the best or worst thing for it. We need a stronger Asuras.”

Spayar was frowning deeply by the time Channa had finished. “I see. I really don’t like any of that but I see your point.”

“Yeah. It isn’t good,” she agreed. “I would suggest, if you can, to get your prince out of the Palace. Teldin has been causing a scene everywhere and the last thing you want is His Highness Vondugard getting between Teldin and Tallasala should it come to blows.”

“No indeed,” Spayar said slowly. He emptied the meager rest of his seed onto the ground in front of him. “Thank you for the information. I need to go get my sick sister from the healer now. Don’t get in trouble on the way back to the Palace with the guard.”

“Easy enough,” she said but didn’t rise with him. Spayar left her sitting there and went and found his mare where she was picketed across the square. He retightened her saddle before mounting up.

As he headed back for D’linger he really took a harder looks at the shops in South Garden. He had been thinking about too much else before but now he saw there were signs on old permanent stalls declaring they were out of stock. The three butchers he passed across the city all had sold out signs displayed for the end of the day. There were fewer street vendors in general and what there was were rice stalls. Spayar frowned. When he’d left rice had been a rare luxury from across the Shard because it didn’t grow well in the Alliance. Or at least a suitable place hadn’t been found for its cultivation yet. Now it was prominent, and expensive. Half a silver for a cup of cooked rice with some meager fixings and a quarter platinum for a pound of it uncooked.

When he finally arrived in D’linger the light was still on inside Mali’s place. He knocked politely and waited for her to answer. She did and brought him inside. “How’s Anora?”

“Perfectly fine, just as I said,” Mali said smugly. She brought him over to Anora who was in the kitchen using some of Mali’s charcoal and scrap paper to draw. “Anora, Spayar’s back.”

Anora looked around at him, “De-de!” she said excitedly. Her eyes were clear, her face the normal deep brown.

“Were you good for miss Mali while I was gone?” Spayar asked and came over to give her curls a fond ruffle.

“I was. I’m not like you de-de and always get into trouble,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

Behind him Mali snorted. “Yeah but that’s my job,” Spayar said helplessly. “Cmon, let’s get home before addim loses her mind with worry.”

“Okay! Thanks for making me better miss Mali,” Anora said politely, bouncing a bit.

“Of course, dear. I’m all too happy to see a sweet girl like you better,” Mali said kindly as she saw them both out. Once outside Anora bounded over to Spayar’s horse to pet her. Mali grabbed his sleeve before he could follow. “Just make sure she gets a good night sleep and avoids direct contact with anyone sick for a day or so. I purged the sickness from her but curing a virus with magic isn’t always perfect.”

Spayar nodded seriously. “I’ll tell mama to keep her out of school a few days. I suspect she got it from there. Flue been around this year?”

“Not yet. A lot of people down current got infections of some sort from all the sediment being brought up into the streets and flooding the sewage. But it’s early yet, the rains haven’t started. I’m sure it’ll come,” she sighed.

“Okay. Thanks again Mali. Should I give you something now or later-

She punched his arm. “Don’t insult me Spayar,” she glared at him.

“I was just being nice,” he complained and rubbed his arm. Mali looked soft but she had a mean left hook.

“I don’t want your money. Have your mother send me some of her amazing pickles and we’ll call it even.”

Spayar chuckled. “Sure. Thanks again Mali.”

“Spayar, are we going to go?” Anora called. He looked back at her and she was holding onto his mare’s bridle and his horse had her half a hand or so off the ground.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said and rushed over. “Don’t do that,” he took her hands off the bridle and she dropped down to the ground. “Both she and the bridle are expensive.”

“But-

“Just get on,” and he helped her up onto the saddle before climbing up after her. They waved to Mali before Spayar turned her down the street and they headed back home.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about a sleeping sister and the streets were more empty because of the hour Spayar got his horse to go a bit faster through the streets. So, mercifully, it was quicker home than it was there this morning. Anora was glad to get down and as soon as Spayar put her on the ground she ran for the house calling for their mother. “I’m so glad I’m never having one,” Spayar told his mare who snorted into his face. “Yeah I love her but Densinn’s tongue I don’t want one,” he led her into the shed that was her home. While he’d been out his father had ordered more food for her and had someone sweep out the little room. Probably one of his apprentices. He cleaned her up a bit with the promise of doing a better job tomorrow and made sure her troughs were full before going into the house.

Anora was in the kitchen with Relora, happily chatting away. Dinner was already starting to be brought out on the table and Calli was there waiting patiently. He did a double take at who was sitting next to her. “What are you doing here?” he asked Von, interrupting his conversation with Calli.

“Don’t be mean, Spayar,” Calli said.

Von just grinned sheepishly at him. “I did come looking for you but your mother said you were gone for the day. So I was just waiting for you,” he said and by the end his grin was a bit more playful. Spayar wanted so badly to be annoyed with him but he just couldn’t. He sat next to Von. “I knew you’d come eventually.”

Spayar leaned around Von to talk to Calli, “How often does he come here? Is he bothering you? You know you can tell him to leave if he’s annoying you.”

Calli just giggled. “It’s fine. And he just visits sometimes. Don’t get jealous I might have seen him more than you have,” she very specifically needled him. Oh, he did not like that. He gave her a stone faced look, to which she grinned, and looked away. Relora and Anora came out of the kitchen, Relora with the rest of the dinner and Anora with a jug of slightly sweating strawberry water.

“Where are Spayar and Duren?” Relora asked.

“I did tell them dinner was going to be ready soon,” Calli said helpfully. Relora huffed and walked down the hall out to the forge while Anora jumped into her seat. “You feeling better puke girl?” Calli asked.

“I’m not a puke girl,” Anora said sourly.

“You were a puke girl last night for sure.”

“Spayar, Calli’s being mean to me!” Anora cried.

Spayar, who was serving himself hot bean salad with chilies and potatoes, stopped and looked at them both. “Calli, be nice, I guess?” he wasn’t quite sure how to act like an actual adult in this situation. “Both of you stop bickering and eat instead. Eating is a way better use of your air,” he continued and put the big spoon he’d been using into Calli’s hand.

Calli rolled her eyes and at least didn’t continue teasing Anora. “Did you send that letter you said you would?” Von asked him now that the girls were distracted with Calli telling Anora she needed to eat her vegetables.

“No. I was busy,” Spayar grimaced. “Tomorrow, when the post is open again, I’ll send it.”

“Get it in before Lomedocest.”

Spayar gave him a narrow eyed look. “Are you planning something?”

“Me? Never,” Von grinned widely at him.

Spayar squinted at him, not believing his pretty smile for a moment. “Spayar! Calli’s being mean again!” Anora yelled.

“Oi! Knock it off. Addim left for hardly a minute.”

“What’s going on in here?” like on cue Relora came back, leading two very dirty smiths behind her to go wash their hands and face.

“Calli is being mean-

“I am not,” Calli huffed.

Spayar sighed and tuned out his sister’s bickering. Von just watched with a smile on his face while politely eating what was on his plate until Spayar Sr. came in and barked at the both of them to settle down. Dinner was a much more settled affair after that.

#nanowrimo #original fantasy #zs #my psd kinda broke inside krita so iiiiiii am faking this chapter's title lols #bc this is the cover I had on hand that doesn't drastically conflict with other chapter titles

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